A Day in the Life

Before moving on to this week's topics, I thought it was worth posting the below two photos.

The first picture of from our Thanksgiving trip to Carilo (Where Dreams Come True). When we got to 'La Reserva' for our horse riding, Claire's friends (ages 12, 9, and 7) were all determined to ride their own horses. Claire, while big for her age, is 4, and we didn't think it was too terribly safe for her to ride a horse by herself. There was no age limit presented in the safety briefing and the waiver paperwork we signed.... Oh wait, there was none of that. We showed up, mounted, and were off. Claire was determined to have her own horse. Just when her parents had to put their feet (or foots, or footy) down, the horse whisperers trotted out this little pony for her to ride. You should have seen the look of pure joy on Claire's face. She rode that little guy the whole time and did a wonderful job. The picture either reveals that Claire really is a giant for her age, or that this horse had some kind of head shrinking dust spilled all over its body. Claire the Gaucha. Awesome.

This second photo is exactly what it looks like. It's a pile of horsey poopie with a Sam-sized footprint in it. So there was this pile, and all four adults saw Sam eyeing it. As he got closer, four adults (in their 'teaching' voices) said "Sam!" His selective hearing was engaged, he raised his foot, and squish (or squash, splat, plop, glop). The steam came from mommy's nose (not really), daddy's ears (really), and the poopy (double really). I'm still not sure Sam knows what the big deal was. What a character.

So now on to this week. Based on an experience we had yesterday, I thought I would provide a posting about a more mundane part of living abroad: The Grocery Store. One thing that Candace was concerned about before moving to Argentina was the availability of whole grain foods and decent produce. Despite repeated explanations that there are large grocery stores, she remained skeptical. After being here several months, we have settled into a routine and know the ins and outs of the different options. There are two companies with very large grocery stores, Jumbo and Carrefour. Carrefour has a few large centers around the suburbs and a lot of mini-Carrefours sprinkled around the various neighborhoods. Unfortunately, with our skillfully planned menus, we are particular about what he buy so the mini-Carrefours are used more for when we need something quick (since there is one about 5 blocks from our house).

We do most of our shopping at Jumbo. Yes, that's the name of Dumbo's mother. Yes, the mascot of the store is an elephant. Yes, it is funny that with obesity getting so much airtime in the United States that we shop at a store with a name like that. We do, however, get everything we need at one store. There is a Walmart about 20 minutes away, but it's not a Super Walmart--envision a Walmart with only Argentine goods--not as enticing, huh?

So we make it out to Jumbo about once a week. When we first arrived and didn't have a car, Candace always had the groceries delivered. If you spent the equivalent of about $115, your groceries could be delivered for FREE... so we did. The hassle is that there are probably 50-60 cash registers at the front of the store, and you really have to pay attention to which line you get in. At least a third of them are for home delivery only. There are about 10 that are for small orders (less than 20 items), there are a bunch of regular lines (that get WAY WAY backed up since... well, I'll get to that in a second), and there are a handful of priority lines. Who gets priority? Handicapped, seniors, pregnant women, and women with infants. So yesterday with Claire, Sam and Caroline all in tow, we became priority customers.

While that in itself isn't all that funny, we arrived at the line immediately after a non-priority customer had unloaded his whole cart and the checker was getting ready to start ringing him up. The checker saw us (read: Caroline) and asked the man to step aside. So we took our cart and a half of goods around him and checked right out. I avoided eye contact with the guy who was visibly annoyed... oh well. Sorry, señor, but we DO have a baby... step aside! And off we went.

The other funny thing (like funny = hassle) is that in the produce section, you go around picking out everything that you want, then you have to go to the scales (in the produce section) where they weigh everything and put a price tag on it. It is a far cry from showing up at the front of the grocery store and having them ring up everything right there. Now back to why the lines get so backed up. If you're not smart about when you shop, you'll find yourself there for hours. The Argentine people love crowds. When there is a holiday, EVERYBODY goes out. On the weekends, EVERYBODY goes out. On Saturday afternoon, EVERYBODY goes out shopping. Remember one of the first blogs about the mall food court at 1:00 am... people just love being out. They go out and congregate. So when you shop, the timing is important or you just get stuck.

COMPLETELY UNRELATED: We got the new side view mirror and I fixed it myself. I'm going to be a guest mechanic on BBC's Top Gear.

Finally, another reality of living in a foreign culture. During the last month, the domestic airport in downtown BA has been closed and all flights were moved to the International Airport (Ezeiza). So I had to travel this week and my flight was supposed to depart at 8:40 pm on Aerolineas Argentinas (one I try to avoid due to it's consistent lateness, lack of onboard entertainment, and sub-par (compared to other indigenous airlines) snacks). We were at the airport plenty early and were just killing time until about 8:15 pm when we checked the monitor (FLIGHT ON TIME) and made our way to the security area. That's when we were told that all flights on Aerolineas were delayed. We said that the monitor says its departing on time (even in Spanish) to no avail. We went back to the monitor (FLIGHT ON TIME), sat down, and then looked at the monitor again at 8:30 pm (10 mins before we were supposed to leave), and (FLIGHT DELAYED). It was delayed until 10:00 pm... so we hurried back to try and claim our seats at the cafe where we were waiting to wait some more. While wandering around about 9:05 pm, we heard "THIS IS THE FINAL CALL FOR FLIGHT BLAH BLAH BLAH." So we hurried back to security, made it onto the flight (as some of the last passengers), and were in the air by about 9:20 pm.

Not that I haven't been delayed on a flight before (or 100 times), it was just the manner in which the delay was known in advance, advised at the last minute, then with no more notice (the monitors when we ran back to security still had it leaving at 10:00 pm), it was going to leave us. Hence my attempts to avoid them. Blegh.

So that was our exciting week. It's getting warmer and warmer, and we're trying to get into the holiday spirit in shorts, t-shirts, and flip-flops.