Rule #32: Enjoy the Little Things

If I've learned one thing in my travels, it's an appreciation of the things I so often take for granted. However, in absence of something novel and profound, I present to you a list of trivial differences between Argentina and the United States.

• Gas stations are awesome. They are all full service, often have the best wifi in town, are notoriously clean and the one I'm in right now has a second floor study area with tons of natural light.
• Supermarkets don't have baggers. 
• Things that just don't exist anymore: root-beer, recycling, two-way streets, hot chocolate mix, posted speed limits, berries, the @ button, BBQ flavored chips, black people, cup of noodles, ashtrays, well-paved highways, applesauce, mechanical pencils, bagels, Californian girls, oatmeal, Caesar salads and like 100 things I won't know I've missed until I come back to the states
• Things that still exist but are perverted in some way: hamburgers have egg and ham but no onions, hot dogs are crazy long and there's no relish, bathroom trashcans are really tiny and have tiny lids on them, advertisements are notably better and funnier...
• These things are now ubiquitous: Alcohol, mayonnaise and tuna fish - all slightly revolting.
• Most restaurants have wifi and there aren't any cafés
• The word for underwear is socks.
• Everyone seems to have exact change. 
• You can't double on any soft hand in BlackJack  
• I saw more than one guy holding his helmet while riding a mo-ped.
• Everything that isn't alcoholic says so on the bottle, even juice and water.
• Underwear is only sold at underwear stores. 
• Cars from the 80's, 70's, and 60's are commonly seen on the road.
• I saw a car drive by with a dog standing on the roof. What!?!?!
• Peak business hours now means all the shops are closed
• Pregamming starts at midnight or later
• When you order pasta at a restaurant, you order and pay for the sauce separately.
• You don't really eat breakfast here. Unless you consider bread and dulce de leche a breakfast.
• I've seen stray dogs of almost every breed. Scottish terrier, boxer, greyhound, husky, dachshund, irish wolfhound, labs, retrievers, beagles, setters, hounds...
• All the gatorade flavors are different. They also sell apple juice as a flavor. powdered gatorade is non-existent, but tang is extremely popular. Orange tang is often served in pitchers like orange juice for breakfast at hostels. 
• Apple hasn't reached Argentina yet. If you see someone on a macbook, chances are they're either from the states or the UK. Ipods are less telling.
• Fruits and vegetables are kind of hard to come by.
• 7-Up's are notably and consistently flat. Sprite's good though, if you can find it.
• Classic rock and 80's music is more popular here than it is in the states.
• Everything to do with buses. First of all, in Buenos Aires, people wait patiently in perfect single-file lines at bus stops. When you ask the bus drivers if they can let you know when your stop is coming up they say yes and they're nice about it. They drive much faster. You can get off anywhere and sometimes they'll even pick you up between stops. 
• You don't have to be gay to use hair gel. 
• Jay walking is a god given right
• Residential and non-major streets do not have stop signs. Drivers will just slow down slightly at intersections and magically avoid other drivers, and then maybe people.
• If someone asks for the salt, don't hand it to them, place it on the table in front of them. A strange superstition involving fighting that I still don't quite understand.
• Flip-flops are seldom seen.
• Porn!!!! Maxim now includes full nudity. Instead of being at the back, nudie mags are placed at the front at magazine stands and they're never wrapped in plastic.
• Sandwiches have no crust, which is awesome.
• Toilets flush really unenthusiastically. I have so many metaphors that I'm not using here. You're so welcome. 
• Now, I hate to end on a sour note, but this is important. To Argentina's credit, ice cream stores are hugely popular in the north. But when I asked for a second sample, not only was I denied, I got a funny look. WHAT!? To date, that has been the most stark and heartbreaking difference.

On the Road

I've been through a lot since our last session. I've been to the end of the world, slept at the border, hitchhiked to a funeral, counted cards, and hiked on a glacier. Although I truly believe my photos supersede best explanation of former sentence, I will permit thee a typed narrative of my recent adventures.
      Exhibit A: the end of the world. A pet name bestowed upon the southernmost city in the world, formally known as Ushuaia. Kept afloat mostly by tourists like myself, looking to place a pushpin near the bottom of the map. Indeed, this is a destination town and nothing more. However if you feel like ponying up a cool seven thou' you can leave this port for sunny antarctica, weather permitting. Unfortunately, I didn't have the cash nor did I feel like swimming so after a couple days down south I decided that I'd rather have an adventure than my guaranteed safety and started hitchhiking north. That's right! I'm hitchhiking. But isn't that a right of passage reserved only for the desperate, sun-baked, hippie vagrant? Well, I won't take that as a complement, but I think you left out senseless. Just because I can afford the bus doesn't mean I necessarily want to ride it. Think of me as a modern-day, counterculture Rosa Parks...that's white, male and with none of the societal hardships. Yes, I may regret getting into that black, unmarked van with Buffalo Bill as my chauffeur, but I'm going to play the age chip and just admit to naiveness. Besides, I don't have to justify myself to the internet. You're the internet. Fuck.
      Excuse my french and we're moving on. So, I've been hitchhiking ever since the end of the world and I've been loving it. My first ride came from a local firefighter, wearing a cowboy hat, shoulder length hair, sunglasses and a flannel. Although he dressed like a serial killer, he was incredibly kind and made sure to point out the location of every roadside accident he had ever attended. His job was to take pictures of the horrific accidents before the biorecovery unit came in and performed some sunshine cleaning. For nearly two hours, he recounted dozens of nightmarish automotive mishaps with incredible detail and a casual morbid curiosity. I'll be honest. I was gripping my three-inch folding blade in my pocket for the first hour or so of our journey together. When it turned out that he was just a weird guy in a cowboy hat with a camera full of trauma victims and not a psycho, my grip loosened and I had a really nice time. He even pulled over at one point to show me a particular species of moss that was used to color certain whiskeys. A true gentleman. In addition to not asking for compensation he didn't even ask for road head, of which I was particularly grateful.
      We arrived in the small town of Río Grande at around two in the afternoon, and having such a positive first experience I was adamant to hitchhike again. I quickly made my way to the Argentinean/Chilean border just north of the city limits, where cars and trucks are required to stop. Unfortunately, that didn't help me much. I spent the day getting acquainted with the Gendarmeria, the Argentinean border police. I learned some colorful language and ended up spending the night in the waiting room. The next morning I bummed a ride with four politically minded 20-somethings. They were northwards towards Río Gallegos in order to pay their respects. Apparently the ex-president, and husband to the current president, Nestor Kirschner had passed the day before yesterday. His body was being flown down to Río Gallegos where he was to be buried. I had stayed a night in Río Gallegos on my way down south, and had found it remarkably dull. But this time was different. When I arrived around noon, there were already crowds beginning to form. By six o'clock, the streets were completely packed. It was incredible. When the actual coffin came, the fervor piqued and it was borderline chaos.
      The next day I caught a ride to El Calafate, the gateway city for accessing Torres Del Paine and glacier Perito Moreno. I've been here for a week now, and alas it is time to leave. I will miss this bar however. At the moment I am enjoying the warm atmosphere of a cafe/whiskey bar that reminds me very much of the Three Broomsticks. While they don't serve butterbeer, they do serve honey beer, really thick hot chocolate, hamburgers and damn good whiskey. Well, my mind is starting to roam, and there's not enough ritalin to lasso it back into the stables. Next stop: Valparaiso to visit Dan and Grace, fellow Middleburians studying abroad in Chile. Now if you'll excuse me I have a date to keep with a Mr. Johnny Walker.