Cooking (and more) in Tellicherry

January 10 - 14, 2006
Tellicherry, Kerala, India

“As you walk and eat and travel, be where you are, otherwise you will miss most of your life.” - Buddah

As a service to foodies paying attention, I must say more about the cooking school I alluded to in my last entry.

If you love traveling for food and strive to go where no one (tourist) has gone before have I got just the place for you; Ayisha Manzil. Located in Tellicherry, a region that has locals scratching their heads wondering where in India is Tellicherry? I tried looking it up on the internet but they don’t have a website and nothing came up other than recipes for the eponymous Tellicherry peppercorn. To get there I was told to hop on the overnight train near to where I was staying in Southern Kerala and in the morning I’d be picked up at the station in Tellicherry. I did what I was told.

Promptly at 8:00am I was met at the Tellicherry train station by Jissu Jacob, Ayisha Manzil’s house manager and resident naturalist, and escorted to the property. After a short ride we arrived at the top of a cliff overlooking the Arabian Sea. I moved quickly from the second-class overnight train cabin to first-class status. The heritage house is a strikingly beautiful 150-year-old Colonial home situated among coconut and tamarind trees. The house, built in 1862 by British colonel-turned spice trader named Murdock Brown, has six bedrooms filled with family heirlooms and antiques. A staff of nine devotees at Ayisha Manzil glides about the house barefooted keeping total order so guests may experience an atmosphere of tropical peace and tranquility.

CP Moosa, whose grandfather purchased the home in 1900, greeted me upon arrival. His specialty, I quickly realized, is catering to out-of-towners. His past life for 35 years in hotel management prepared him for making people who are far away from home feel right at home. Moosa took his honed skills in-house and since 1996 he and his wife, Faiza, selectively play perfect hosts to mainly Western travelers looking for an authentic Indian experience that goes a layer below the surface of mass tourism. Before you can say Moosa the Macha (in Yiddish it means ‘The Big Cheese’, in Hindi it means fun. Both perfect descriptions of Moosa) he’s organizing your daily itinerary and giving you loads of options on how to spend your time in this secluded and small yet culturally rich region.

Moosa kept my days filled with adventures to the local spice and fish market shopping for top quality cashews, saffron and golden raisins to include in the Fish Biriyani planned for the evening cooking class or to the nearby 2.5 mile long and clean beach to swim or watch local families and friends pick bivalves from the sand for suppertime. Quite a few times I simply chose to lounge around the emerald tiled swimming pool and write in my journal. After all, I was on the greatest, most fabulous, best ever vacation of a lifetime. Why not laze about? When I removed the rush and hurry from my routine I was able to truly and deeply relax.

Moosa rattled off local activities from which to choose. The most unique and unforgettable on the list was Theyyam. A local religious, ritualistic art performance, Theyyam is performed as an offering to the deities and often held to bring good fortune to significant events such as marriages and house-warmings. Theyyam refers to both the form or shape of the deity and to the ritual. After several hours of watching the Theyyam “character” apply make-up and get into costume the religious rituals got underway. Wild pounding of drums, cymbals clanging and whirling around in circles helped the performer to channel the spirit of the deity. I was entranced by the otherworldly atmosphere created by the performer as he transcended from his physical state of being into the deity. Hopefully the Theyyam photo album to the right and audio recording at the bottom of this entry give a more accurate account of what goes on at a Theyyam performance.

Let us not forget the reason I endured the twelve-hour overnight train ride to Tellicherry in the first place. Determined to find an Indian woman who could teach me to cook Indian food, I had heard a few good things about Faiza Moosa; she was invited to be the guest chef at a top hotel in Lyon, France. Also BBC featured Faiza cooking Mopilah cuisine along the Malabar Coast and aired the segment twice. That’s all well and good but was I going to be able to roll up my sleeves, play around with different colored spice powders and sear some beef? I’m not strange. Really, I’m not. I just get great pleasure from the cooking process. I don’t even mind the clean up part. OK, that’s a little odd, I admit. (Not to fear. There is no cleaning. Only kitchen staff diligently keeps the cooking area clean and clutter free.) My only complaint is that the staff prepped too many ingredients ahead of time. Maybe they mistook me for someone who didn’t want tomato juice dripping down her wrist or fingers smelling a hint like onions and garlic the next morning. I do! That’s part of my fun!

A shy, cherub-faced woman, Faiza isn’t a big conversationalist. Nevertheless, her presence in the kitchen commanded my full and undivided attention. A small spiral bound notebook filled with family recipes was handed out. The assignment was to prepare five dishes to be enjoyed later that evening by my fellow houseguests around an elegantly set dinner table. The menu included Beef Stew, Tamarind Prawns, Fish Biriyani, Chappati, a few vegetable dishes and Scrambled Banana for dessert. Of the eight houseguests only two signed up for the class. More dishes for us to cook.

Mopilah (Muslim) Malabar cuisine has its own version of The Holy Trinity in Cajun cooking; bell peppers, onions and celery - coriander, chilli and tumeric powders are added to just about every dish. Mopilah Malabar cuisine makes use of the region’s various fresh vegetables and elaborate spices like mustard seed, grated coconut, cardamon, cinnamon and cloves. The food isn’t excruciatingly spicy but they get the point across with plenty of green chillies. Home cooks have control over how much or little heat to apply. Faiza kept a watchful eye while I acquainted myself with new ingredients and together we prepared an Indian feast. The only Macha in the kitchen at Ayisha Manzil is Faiza Moosa.

You’ll love Ayisha Manzil, cooking with Faiza and Moosa taking a personal interest in forming your itinerary. The selection of things to do is endless. Allow for lounging by the pool and book four nights. You’ll be grateful they asked Lonely Planet to keep Tellicherry out of the guidebooks. The people who venture there really want a slice of authentic India. Needless to say, skip the overnight train and enjoy an all day ride to Tellicherry.
It’s well worth the trip.

Ayisha Manzil – Heritage Home
Court Road, Tellicherry, Kerala, India
Tel: 00 91 490 2341590
Mobile: 00 91 0 98470 02340
Email: cpmoosa@rediffmail.com
Download drummers_in_kerala.MP3

Have A Pleasant Journey

Tellicherry, Kerala, Southern India
January 10, 2006

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” – Ralph Waldo Emmerson

Four days into my India trip and I was itching to know where to go and what to do next. I’m a planner. It’s my nature. I can’t help it. Up until this travel journey a Palm Pilot dictated my days. Ironic it broke down when I got to India. If that’s not a message I don’t know what is! Now I try to live by a mantra, let go of having to know and go with the flow, but the planner inside of me rears her head from time to time and wants to know the plan. I resist that need-to-know tendency because many amazing experiences, people and places have come into my life over the past four months all because I didn’t have a plan.

Next stop for spontaneous adventure was a cooking school in Tellicherry. I knew I wanted to learn how to cook Indian food in an Indian kitchen from an Indian woman but didn’t know anyone set up to bring a tourist into their home and communicate in English about the nuances of Indian cuisine. A few of the locals I told about my interest in cooking sweetly offered, “Come my home. My mother teach you cook.” I thought about it for a second and maybe if I wasn’t traveling alone I would have gone deeper into the community way of life but on my own, with no one in the world knowing where I was made me opt for the cautious route.

I found out about a cooking school from the owner of Lagoona Davina. She told me about a husband and wife who run a home stay in a beautiful 150-year-old colonial mansion in the Northern part of Kerala. (I’m assuming you’ve heard the term home stay. There was an article in The National, a major English newspaper, in Bangkok, so I figured it’s already been covered in the states. If not, it’s another option for a traveler to staying in a hotel or B&B. In a home stay you’re closely connected to the family who’s home you’re staying in rather than an anonymous visitor roaming around a hotel. Some home stay hosts make you feel like you’re part of their family and you’ve come home for a visit. They might invite you to join in their meals and socialize like one of the clan or they might take you for a drive around town and give you a tour of the local flavors. On this trip, I’ve stayed in two home stays and highly recommend them for anyone who wants to get a glimpse of real life in that region.) The house, Ayisha Manzil (named after the husband’s grandmother) has been in his family for 106 years and the wife teaches cooking classes out of their home. The only other bit of information I had to go on was that this woman had been getting quite a bit of notoriety from the press. The BBC filmed a cooking show in their home and a leading hotel in France invited them to go to Lyon and showcase her traditional recipes for hotel guests.

You won't find Tellicherry (Thalasseri, the region’s name pre-British occupation) on every map of India. In fact, I looked it up in my Lonely Planet India guidebook and it was featured on the main map of India up front but that's the only time it's referenced. (Later, I found out the owner intentionally arranged this) I did some research on the place before making my decision to schlep up state and all I found when I searched the web for Tellicherry was information about the little green Tellicherry peppercorns. Peppercorns are used in cooking so I figured I was heading in the right direction.

THERE'S NOTHING I LOVE MORE THAN GOING OFF THE BEATEN PATH FOR A FOOD ADVENTURE! Some people might think "what a waste of time" but I know there are others, like me, who share this hunger for local experiences and revel in the journey.

CP Moosa, the owner of the home stay, emailed me details how to get from Kovalam Beach to Tellicherry. He said the trip would take 12 hours via overnight train. He also said there was no First Class cabin to Tellicherry so I should buy a ticket for the Second Class AC (air con) cabin. My “man servant” (Not kidding. That’s what the owner called staff.) sent a tuk tuk to the Trivandrum train station and purchased a one way ticket leaving 8pm and arriving 8am in Tellicherry. My first train experience in India turned out to be my last.

Gopi, a very sweet man drove me from Lagoona Davina to the train station. When he found out I live in San Francisco he became so excited and happy. An American man he drives around whenever he's in India lives in San Francisco. He told me his name and gave me his business card hoping that I could connect with him when I got back to San Francisco to talk about our common friend. Gopi referred to this man as “my brother” and told me that he's sponsoring one of his daughters through school. I also told him I was heading to Tellicherry (he hadn’t heard of the region) to take Indian cooking classes. “Come stay with us. You learn lots. Don’t worry. I’m family man. Two daughters and one wife.” I was overwhelmed by the spontaneous generosity and kindness. Gopi walked me to the train and took me to my seat assignment. I felt like a little girl being dropped off on the first day of school. I was a little nervous about my first train ride in India and appreciated having Gopi there to guide me to my seat. People advised me to get into a women-only car so I asked Gopi if this was possible. He said they didn’t have separate cars for men and women on this train. I asked the question again. “Can I sit in a car with no men?” Up until this point Gopi's English was excellent but I hoped he just didn’t understand my question and by asking again I’d illicit the answer I was looking for. I hadn’t heard any train horror stories so there wasn’t any real reason to be afraid. What was contributing to my fear was the fact that I was doing something for the first time. It was dark and late into the evening. To boot, I was going to a place that wasn’t on my map.

Gopi brought me to my seat and we said goodbye. The neighbors arrived soon after and I was relieved to see two women and one man. I liked the ratio. One of the ladies started making up her cot with the bedding that was left out on our mattresses. I had 13 hours in this 6x10 space so it seemed like a good way to kill some time. First I put on the fitted sheet. Then the top sheet. Both were clean. They provided a wool army blanket with an itchy feel so I was happy to have a top sheet. They also left a hand towel in case we wanted to freshen up at the sink located along the window side in the center of the two columns of cots. My hand towel had curry yellow streak stains that made me think it wasn’t a hand towel but possibly a napkin. No food is served on the train. It was just a stained hand towel. I tossed it on one of the open cots. Sobha and Molly were the names of the women neighbors and Vinod was the man. I thought it was a sign of friendliness when Molly took her shoe off and put her foot on my mattress. I wish that were the case. She did it because she saw a rat crawling around the floor space in our little area. That’s not why I made that train ride my last. Vinod, my male compartment mate decided he wanted to stay up late and watch a movie with me or do whatever.............. I blocked him out and ignored whatever he was saying to me and worked on my laptop editing photos. It must have been midnight by the time I finally fell into a tense sleep.

Sobha woke me (actually, she shook me. my experience with Indian woman was that they pushed or shoved rather than touched). It was 7am when my three compartment mates were getting ready to depart for Callicut, three stops before Tellicherry. “If you come to Callicut next time” she said, “stay with us.” Unsolicited and random kindness strikes again.

I thought it best to remain awake until we arrived at the Tellicherry station. Didn’t want to have to use one of the “Good Advice For When...” envelopes Tom & Cassandra sent me off on this trip with in case of emergency. My hands were sore and crampy from tightly and safely wrapping myself up in the sheets and blanket. The ticket man came by to punch my ticket. I was so disoriented I almost couldn’t find where I put the thing. I noticed the sentence ‘Have a Pleasant Journey’ was printed on the ticket. After that sleepless and tenuous night I chose to hire a car and driver for all future transportation throughout India.

See pictures on blog for train setting.

Easing into India

Kovalam Beach, Kerala, Southern India
January 2 – 10, 2006

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the places and moments that take our breath away.” - Anonymous

Strong opinions are had about India. About the poverty, people, food, cleanliness, or lack there of, and I wanted to form my own. And that I did from the second I got off the plane.

After spending five weeks in the southern region of the country what I surmised is India is incredible. An unoriginal adjective, I realized, when I learned Tourism India already thought to use it for their current public relations and advertising campaign. Maybe it’s already been thought of, but, for me, everything about India was original since I was experiencing it for the very first time. I must say Tourism India hit the nail on the head with the campaign. Incredible is fitting because no matter what you imagine this place to be there is no way to come close to its reality without seeing it with your own two eyes.

India grabbed hold of my senses and had its way with them. You might even say assaulted them. The most extreme conditions and situations live side by side in harmony. An example would be the way garbage is strewn EVERYWHERE but to my surprise and the delight to my sense of smell what I picked up was creamy coconut oil. That boggled my mind. If I’m not making sense it’s because India is a 180-degree about face turn away from our comfortable lives in the western world. Here’s another example. When I landed what I first noticed was endless luscious tropical greenery. A land of coconut trees and banana palms enveloped by the Arabian Sea and women’s silk sarees in pulsating colors of saffron and magenta. Next to that I noticed tremendous amounts of garbage scattered along the streets, stagnant polluted streams and little boys and grown men peeing out in the open.

I’ve heard you either love India or hate it. It’s possible to love it and hate it. I was deeply intrigued by extreme differences in the way people live compared to the way I live. It might be safe to say I’m different from the entire country of over 1 billion people. 35-year old, unmarried, divorced, Jewish woman with no children traveling around the globe, alone. I was as foreign to them as squatting down over a porcelain hole or an open field on the side of a road and calling that a bathroom was to me. I also love the fact that I don't live in India but look forward to going back to explore the North. Northern India, I’m told, is less gentle than the South and for safety and peace of mind reasons I’d like to do this with a travel partner.

People ask me how I’ve planned for an around the world trip like this. Did I do a lot of research? How am I choosing where-to-go, where-to-stay, etc? The only plans I arranged in advance were flights into/out of some countries with flexibility to change dates without incurring a penalty. Any additional flights or trains I book as needed. The only hotel reservations I made were for the first nine nights in India.

The where-to-go part was easy. My goal was to have an endless summer. Or, summer-like weather for as long as possible. In January, it’s actually wintertime in India but mid-80’s and high humidity is summer enough for me. No one would want to be in India past April. It’s over 100 degrees with equally as much humidity and monsoon rains from May - August. I made the reservations for my first week in India online just three weeks before I arrived. Actually, I was in the lobby of the Sheraton in Iguazzu Falls, Argentina, working off of my little Apple Powerbook G4 Laptop wirelessly connected to the internet (it’s such a beautiful thing when I find the technology in place to be able to do that) and did a Google search for “hip hotels southern india”. It may sound strange that I searched for “hip” when India isn’t the place one goes in search of hip. I knew that was the case but I also know myself and five weeks of unhip, unclean and meatless was going to be tough living so I desperately searched for hip, at least for the beginning of the trip.

www.i-escape.com said all the right things about Lagoona Davina:
Lagoona Davina is an intimate guesthouse, nestling on the edge of a fresh water lagoon, with stunning views across to the white sands of the Arabian Sea. Set in a tiny South Keralan village amid coconut palms, it's far removed from the tourist crowds. Owner Davina Taylor Phillips, who left London a few years ago in pursuit of a more tranquil lifestyle, has created a simple but stylish hideaway with a totally laid back and homely atmosphere.

Rest, read, listen to birdsong and the gently lapping water, eat fresh healthy foods, and be pampered with ayurvedic massages, reiki and one-to-one yoga classes from fully qualified teachers, all in an ecologically-sound environment.

If you're seeking five star luxury or action this isn’t the place for you. However, if you're looking to unwind in a dreamy setting at a moderate price, it's an idyllic retreat. Perfect for women travelling alone.

The hotel was every bit as beautiful as the pictures. www.lagoonadavina.com

It was completely relaxing (except the mosquitoes in the evening), peaceful and stylishly decorated. The owner, Davina, was a real estate developer in the UK and interior designer in her past life. She did a wonderful job with the dramatically Rajasthan atmosphere and Indian animal themed rooms. I stayed in two different rooms. Monkey (with sea view) and Leopard (without view). The best rooms are the ones with a sea view. My only reservation about the place is the mosquitoes in the evening. They have scarred me (literally) for life. Every room is stocked with an assortment of repellant paraphernalia, spray, incense, and swatters. I don’t like using bug spray. I don’t like the smell or the feel of it on my skin. Hence, the scratching and scarring.

The property attracted lots of couples lying around all day kissing and staring and smiling into each other’s eyes. Maybe I was just feeling self- conscious since I was alone. Nope, it’s a place where couples come to relax, take in some ayurvedic massage, do yoga and just get away. I was happy to be easing my way into India at Lagoona Davina.

Some of the days I spent my time reading and resting at the hotel on the lounge beds overlooking the lagoon. Other times I watched the fisherman in front of the hotel pulling in their lines. I never saw them actually catch any fish just pulling in yards and yards of fishing line and then coiling it up to get it ready for more of the same the next day. I also took one of the hotel’s gondolas across the lagoon over to the sea side and walked to the neighboring beaches. Lighthouse Beach is the biggest beach in the area. It’s at the very end of the walk about 2 hours south from the hotel. Good for breaking a sweat. Doesn’t take much to sweat since the humidity was high. My skin had never been so soft and the bumps on the back of my upper arms disappeared. There’s a silver lining to every situation.

Don't ask me how I managed to get invited into a tiny tailor shop and have lunch on the floor with the owner but that happened on my first day in India. Naturally, it had something to do with food and a local so I loved every minute of it! How I managed to get there in the first place was by popped my head in the shop to see what kinds of fabric they were using to make clothing. Next thing I knew the shop owner, Sunny, was talking to me about his brother who lives in Chicago and asked me to join him for lunch. He started opening a plastic bag, the kind you get in the supermarket if you choose plastic instead of paper, and told me to sit on the floor opposite him. I was not about to get in the way of this most authentic dining experience so I kicked off my sandals and got into lotus position. Sunny took a ball of newspaper that held his lunch together out of the plastic bag. In the center of the newspaper was a mound of rice. He said there was too much food and pushed some of the rice closer to me and the rest was for him. Small plastic bags filled with curries or masala were also in the newspaper bundle. Sunny opened the little bags, asked me if I liked spicy, and poured a little of each sauce on a different area of rice. Eating on the floor wasn’t so strange. Eating with a stranger didn’t feel that unusual either. Eating a meal with my hand for the first time since I was too young to remember. Now that felt different. I guess I must have given off a vibe that I wasn’t all that comfortable with the non-utensil set-up because he got up to get a spoon. The water he used to wash off the spoon made me hesitate to use it so I stuck with my right hand. Besides, if I was going all the way with this authentic meal spoons weren’t in the picture. I’m glad there was no mirror to view my hand feeding my mouth with grains of rice with vegetable curry. That would have been a definite appetite suppressant.

Who knew my carnivorous palate could be so satisfied on a fish and vegetable diet? I was happy to go vegetarian for the month of January. God knows my arteries needed a rest from a week of Argentinean beef. (I only ate vegetarian for the first week until I felt comfortable knowing when to order chicken or beef.) Fresh seafood is plentiful throughout Kerala since it’s a coastal state. My staple dinner was Grilled King Prawns with Ghee & Garlic and Butter Naan. Kingfisher, the local beer, to wash it all down.

Simply heaven!

On my way

Journey to Southern India
January 2, 2006

Looking back on my notes from January 2, 2006 (the day I left Johannesburg for India) I see it was a hellish travel day from Johannesburg to Dubai to Bombay to Trivandrum (the southern tip of India). It’s so boring to read about other people’s travel times and flight durations so I’ll spare you but I will tell you this. Poor Josh got violently ill our last night in South Africa. Something he ate in the Port Elizabeth Airport while we were waiting for our connection to Johannesburg must have been carrying a virus. The symptoms wouldn’t stop so at 2:30am I called in a Dr. to make an emergency house call just to get the poor guy to stop vomiting. He gave Josh a few injections to stop the vomiting and reduce his fever. He also loaded him up with pills, rehydration stuff and anti-nausea creamy chalky liquid. Needless to say neither one of us got much sleep. The room was so small it felt as if my head were in the toilet with Josh. On top of everything else I was a bit stressed about my own health. We ate exactly the same meal at the airport. My tummy was starting to feel a bit queasie but I didn’t want to think about it. I had a big journey ahead of me the next day and couldn’t afford to get sick.

We finally fell asleep at 3:30 in the morning. I got up around 7:00 to start calling the airport to try to change Josh’s flight ‘til the following day. There was no way he could live through the 20 hours of travel time back to San Francisco so I was hoping to get someone on the phone to help change his ticket. American Airlines doesn’t have a 24-hour help desk and Josh’s flight was leaving at 10:30. At 9am I threw on some clothes and went to the airport. Luckily his ticket has no restrictions and was easily changed, with a Dr’s note, to the following day. I went back to the hotel to drop off Josh’s ticket, grab my bags and head back to the airport for India. The tummy rumblings I was ignoring the night before came back to pay me a visit on my way to the airport. They were good enough to wait until the journey to India was underway. Luckily I took a stash of Josh’s drugs before I left. I was popping anti-nausea pills and drinking disgusting white chalky liquid every four hours. It was surreal. And ironic. Five weeks in India and the only time I got sick I wasn’t even IN India I was on the plane to India. I camped out on the floor of the back of the plane for a while to try to balance my lightheadedness. I was cold sweating and shivering so badly I thought my spine was going to snap. Emirates Airlines flight attendants were absolute angels. They brought me bread rolls and wrapped me in extra blankets. By the time I landed in Dubai for the first layover I was stable enough to get off the plane and over to the Emirates Lounge. Luckily the one Business Class seat I have on this entire around-the-world trip was from Dubai to Bombay and the lounge couldn’t have come at a more important time.

Plettenberg Bay

December 29 – January 1, 2006
Plettenberg Bay, South Africa

“The trail is the thing, not the end of the trail. Travel too fast and you miss all you are traveling for.” – Louis L’Amour

Plettenberg Bay is a place I was totally unfamiliar with before planning this trip. One of Josh’s students told him it was just like paradise. Paradise had a nice ring to it so that’s where we decided to end our one-month of travel togetherness.

Plettenberg Bay is located towards the eastern region of the “Garden Route” and runs parallel to the southern coast of South Africa. My favorite company, Imagine Africa, booked the hotel so for obvious reasons I was a wee bit worried that they weren’t going to pull through. Mallard River Lodge had a name that could have gone either way. They did good this time. Don’t pay any mind to their super cheesy website, www.mallardlodge.com. It’s atrocious. Owners Simon and Diane Valentine and son, Mark Valentine, have finer taste than the previous owners who put the site together. They’re supposedly changing the name to Harvey Mallard’s River Lodge or something like that and doing a brand and identity overhaul but I just checked the site and no changes to date.

The Valentine family assumed ownership early 2005 and remodeled several of the rooms and restaurant completing the project before Holidays 2005. They opened for prime time in September 2005. Mark is an avid traveler and collector of African and India furnishings. Sophisticated and artful decorations adorn the rooms, pool area and restaurant giving it an ethnic and homey feel. They have already built three new rooms and remodeled the cottages. We stayed in one of the remodeled rooms. It was lovely. The decor reminded me of a “poor-man’s” version of Diane Keaton’s home in the Hamptons in Something’s Gotta Give. A much smaller version, of course, and hardly a poor version but comparatively speaking, that is.

Mallard River Lodge is slightly off the beat and path from the beach but still easy proximity to sand and waves. The hotel is situated on the Bitou River overlooking a bird estuary. You could sit on your private back porch and pass the time slowly bird watching or if you’re into Polo there’s a field adjacent to the estuary. Polo is very big in South Africa. We just missed the finals between South Africa and England.

I had a hit of nirvana on a hike through Robberg Nature Reserve. Actually, I wasn’t even in the mood to go for the little two-hour hike and after about 45 minutes into it and much inner dialog about wanting to quit I suggested turning back. Boy am I glad we went a little further or else I never would have discovered Whitsand Beach. What a precious find! Beautiful crystal clear water drew in my sunburned body. It was slightly chilly but after the initial shock I was wide-awake and enthusiastic!

Plettenberg Bay is known as the Oyster Capital of the World so naturally we had a mission to be the judge of that claim. OK but nothing to write home about. (They didn’t come close to the Rock Oysters I ate later on in Sydney, Australia!)

A few more days of Plettenberg Bay’s Whitsand Beach, Robberg Beach and poolside at Mallard River Lodge would have been nice. Wanting to stay longer in a place is always a good sign and after all, all good things must come to an end.

Winding Down with South Africa

December 28, 2005 – December 30, 2005
Winelands of South Africa

After one month of non-stop traveling and 19 flights later the plan for South Africa was to chill out. Wine tasting and laying by the beach in Plettenberg Bay. We were ready for five days of deep relaxation before Josh went back to work and I went to India.

I had been curious about South African wines for many years. They're the world's seventh largest producer of wine but they don't get much exposure in the Bay Area since we're California, Oregon and Washington focused. I knew they produce a unique grape varietal, Pinotage. It grows on a bush vine and like Zinfandel is to California, Pinotage is to South Africa. Basically we only had one day and one night to get a taste of this region. With over 400 wineries in more than ten regions we didn't even skim the surface but what little I did taste I absolutely loved.

The winelands are incredibly picturesque. I enjoyed drinking up the views as much as I did the wine. It's easy to find your way around. Most wineries are happy to have you drop in for a taste unless, of course, it's one of those appointment-only wineries. A girlfriend of mine from San Francisco, Jen Herman, happened to be in nearby Cape Town the same time we were in Franschhoek. Jen was with two of her friends, Gabe and Jason. Lucky for us, Gabe volunteered to be the designated driver so we poured into his car and went on our wine tasting way. I arranged three winery visits but should have known better from extensive past experience.  Two's enough! We wound up canceling the last appointment.  It's too bad. I've heard great things about Ken Forrester Wines and his restaurant, 96 Winery Road. I MUST come back and visit more wineries and restaurants.

Our first (and favorite) tasting was right outside Franschhoek at a small boutique producer, Lynx Winery. (www.lynxwines.co.za). We emailed and called ahead to arrange an appointment. The owner/winemaker, Dieter Sellmeyer, opened the winery seven years ago and is only on his third or maybe fourth vintage. The winery yields about 90 tons of grapes of which approximately10 tons are put aside for Lynx Wines and the rest sold to other wineries. Up until last year he only produced red wine. In 2005 he started making a Rose. It must have been great because it was sold out so we didn't sample any. We tasted their John Platter award winning 2003 Shiraz, 2003 Cabernet Sauvignon and the 2003 Xanache, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and Cabernet Franc. All fantastic! They also have nightly accommodations on the farm where Lynx Wines are grown. I would consider staying there next time. They have a huge gourmet kitchen onsite and a braai (African word for BBQ).

Dieter and his wife Diana joined us for lunch at Ruben's in the main town of Franschhoek. Franschhoek has the reputation for being the “food and wine capital” of the winelands region. Ruben’s rivaled that of any restaurant I've been to in Yountville or Napa or Sonoma. SOOOO GOOD!!!!!!!!!! The food was so good we couldn't help but photograph everyone's dishes. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. I was one of the happiest tourists in the world ! Like I said, we didn't even skim the surface of the winelands and I have a thirst for future trips to this delicious part of the world.

Warthog. Try It You'll Like It

December 27 – 28, 2005
Zimbabwe, Africa

We were handed off to Chemie, our driver and guide, for the 24 hours we were in Zimbabwe. From the Botswana/Zimbabwe border it was an hour drive to The Rainbow Hotel. Closing in on a HOT, ENCLOSED SHOWER so it didn’t really matter how long it took. We were a little confused how to get the water to come out of the showerhead and not shoot straight down into the tub from the lower faucet. I almost saw Josh snap. Everyone has his or her breaking point. Mine is going without food for longer than three-hour increments. Josh did everything he could to keep me fed regularly. Take the man away from his shower and shaving cream and his usual huge ear-to-ear smile dims. Since Josh wasn’t used to going without a shower and shave everyday I told him to go first. Eventually he figured out how to work the shower. He didn’t come out for what seemed like an hour.

Chemie recommended we check out a local restaurant for dinner called, The Boma Place of Eating. He said we could taste several things we viewed in the bush. Warthog, Kudu, Ostrich. Sounded awful but I couldn’t wait! After 6 days of camping we were thrilled to have anything that wasn’t pulled out of a sometimes-working, sometimes-not-working cooler.

Wish I hadn’t actually seen a warthog before eating it. It’s one of the Ugly Five, you know. They’re in the same grouping as the hyenas, vulture, wildebeest and marabou stork. Every time we came close to a warthog they’d run away. Guess if you were that bad looking you’d hide, too. Somehow eating something that falls in this category turns you off from the word go. Nonetheless, it was our favorite meat of the evening. The menu was impressive. Looked like something I'd seen at The French Laundry. We started with a local brew made from Sorghum. It was the nastiest, most sour, yeasty tasting liquid and I wanted no more than a sip. Couldn't wait to try the crocodile. I was sure it would taste like Chicken but it tasted like a smoked fish. Sable is the closest thing I can use to describe the flavor. Here's the feast:

Boma The Place of Eating

Rendezvous of Zambezi River Bream and Crocodile
- local wine cured crocodile tail scallopini with sundried bream fillets accompanied with a piquant horseradish sauce and roast bell pepper salsa
Smoked Duck Breast
- hand carved slices of duck breast on sweet corn bread splashed with a gingered citrus sauce
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The Boma Braai - Emawosweni
A selection of the following:
* Beef and bacon kebabs, warthog steaks, boerewors, marinated chicken (how boring), ostrich kebabs, game steaks, pork spare ribs, Zambezi bream
* Traditional potjies including oxtail, game, mopani WORMS, and local kapenta fish
* A variety of sauces including piri piri, sweet and sour sauce, and whole green peppercorn

The Carvery
- Baked Apple-Cider Gammon with plum and cardamom chutney
- Pot Roasted Rolled Turkey filled with a date and hazelnut panade with mustard gravy

From The Spit
- Whole Lamb basted with honey-orange and fresh rosemary served with bush vegetables

Dessert Buffet
Bush Tea/Filter Coffee

Ahhhh. To sleep in a big bed after 6 nights of camping is worth every minute of sleeplessness. I vow to never again take a bed for granted. The gratitude soon fades and I begin to expect a big mattress and down pillows each night. That’s when I realize it’s time for another camping trip. I'm going to have to find a friend other than Josh to come with me into the woods. Big Sur isn’t the bush. Maybe it won’t take another 37 years before he gets back into a tent.

Before leaving Zimbabwe for the Winelands of South Africa we stopped off at an artisan's market. There must have been over 50 vendors. Masks, animals, bowls, walking sticks, jewelrey, batik fabrics, musical instruments, furniture, sculptures. The place was amazing and the deals to be had UNREAL. My mother and sister would have reveled in the scene. I, on the otherhand, become a shrinking violet and want to run as far away from every person vying for my attention. "I'll give you good price" each and every one promised. "Josh", I begged, "get me out of here and into a gallery or something so I can have some peace of mind while I try to decide what to buy." I managed to tune out the chaos and find one beautifully carved Steel wood serving piece. Now I have the authentic dish to serve Seswang and Papa. Josh found the fatest and cutest hippo carved out of Teak wood. $25 for the handcarved 3-wooden bowled platter. $9 and a ballpoint pen for the hippo.

Safari in Africa

December 18, 2005 – December 27, 2005
9 day/night Safari in Botswana, Africa
Days 1 & 2 = Okavango Delta
Days 3 & 4 = Okavango Delta, Moremi Game Reserve
Days 5 & 6 = Savute Marsh, Chobe National Park
Days 7 & 8 = Chobe River, Chobe National Park
Day 9 = Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe

“One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.” – Andre Gide

This quotation is a good segue way into the safari. When we booked the trip what we THOUGHT we were consenting to and what we IN FACT actually got weren’t even in the same game park!

Let’s start by saying there was a breakdown in communication. Breakdowns are no fun and even less fun on vacation. But they happen and it happened on our safari. So the story begins...

The breakdown partly came from sheer misrepresentation from the safari company. I assumed the company I used to book the trip, Imagine Africa, would be guiding us through the safari. The phone conversations, website content and email correspondence leading up to the trip didn’t give me any reason to think we’d be traveling throughout Africa with a company other than Imagine Africa. It never occurred to me to ask if this was a possibility. I guess this is one of those lessons one learns through travel experience. Now that I’m a veteran I’ll know to ask for next time. As for the other part of the communication breakdown I take full responsibility. When I researched this particular safari I was reading what I WANTED it to mean and not what it actually said in black in white. HUGE mistake. The words “fixed tented chalet” caught my eye and for some reason I glossed over the word “camping in spacious tents”. (Spacious tents. another misrepresentation) In my mind I guess I wanted “camping” to mean fixed tented chalet. There’s no other explanation I can come up with since I was definitely of the mindset of some luxury not totally roughing it. Had I known there would be camping Josh and I would have talked about our opinions on camping and then we would have signed up for a different safari experience. Like I said. HUGE mistake. Oh, well. Josh forgave me on day one and I forgave myself too so it’s all good.

Here’s how it went down:
We landed at Maun Airport in Botswana and were greeted by Ian the owner of Swamplands Safaris. This is when we first learned Imagine Africa was an imaginary safari company and Swamplands Safari would be our guide. Ian told us the lodge we’d been booked in for the first two nights had closed down. He booked us at Gunn’s Camp, another lodge on the same scale. OK. Fine. Not the best first impression but let’s keep the story going.

With an open mind and adventurous spirit we let the games begin and flew to Gunn’s Camp in one of those 6-seater, single-engine, fear-for-my-life-every-second-I’m-in-the-air planes. After lunch and safari siesta the first activity was a mokoro ride (canoe built out of a tree trunk) and walk through the bush. To help ease my fear of the wild on the walk I put BK, our guide at Gunn’s Camp, in front and Josh behind me just in case we were paid any visits from Mr Buffalo Bill or Lenny the Lion.

Before the walk in the bush BK gave what I call the “scare the shit out of you” talk. First thing he says is “you’re in an extremely dangerous environment”. I know it’s his job to say this but it’s SO obvious it’s comical. Nervous laughter, of course! We were standing in the middle of a vast body of land with nothing to use for cover as far as the eye can see with a strong possibility of lions, leopards, buffalo, hippos, cheetahs and wild dogs roaming nearby. Dangerous. Ya think?! Next BK explains how you shouldn’t wear bright colored clothing like the red baseball cap on Josh’s head or my bright white T-Shirt. He said it’s not good for the animals. (Another nail in Imagine Africa’s coffin) We imagined ourselves looking like two big bloody pieces of meat ready for the taking but then realized BK was saying our colors were too bright and would scare AWAY the animals. Whew! BK offered more sound advice. If we encounter a lion we should stand perfectly still. Apparently they don’t bother with you unless you run like prey. Then they’ll charge! That was easy enough to follow. However, if a buffalo spots you it’s time to hightail it. BK’s advice was to climb a tree or hide behind big bushes. The only problem with that advice is there wasn’t a mere scrub or stump in site. Our timing was lucky and the animals we did see on that first walk were herbivores. BK knew exactly where to find the animals. We walked only 5 minutes and came up on four giraffes. They’re SO cute and big but SO shy! Still feeling self conscious about my clothing and as if I had a bulls eye drawn around the perimeter of my body we walked another few hours before riding back in the mokoro to Gunn’s Camp.

BK’s formal education didn’t go beyond primary school but he knew valuable things you learn from growing up in the bush. His father was a bush doctor and now like his father BK heals people with illnesses. He told me he heals people in the village. “It’s my job”. On the hike he bent down to the ground and started digging at the root of a vine-like plant with silver dollar sized fuchsia flowers (Singhaparile. BK’s spelling). “For my brother. For his kidney”. BK explained first he chops and then boils the root in water. Then the homeopathic herb liquid helps flush the bad kidney. We also learned African sage leaves boiled with water is their remedy for Malaria. We stayed on the Malarone.

After only two days we saw loads of animals and birds. I tried journaling everything I saw but lost track of all the birds. The Malachite Kingfisher turned us instantly into bird watchers for the rest of the safari. We couldn’t take our eyes off its blue, yellow, orange and red feathered head. The different animals we saw after only two days on safari; Impala, Giraffe, Litri, Tsesebe Antelope, Zebra, Warthog, Buffalo, Baboon, Elephant and Hippo.

It was then time to start the next phase of the safari. We flew from Gunn’s Camp over the Okavango Delta back to Maun Airport. Spotting a heard of elephant and other tiny auburn colored dots in the delta beneath us took my mind off the 25-minute plane ride. Once again, our “guide”, Ian, greeted us at the airport and his next bit of news was the real shocker. Ian told us we would be camping for the next six nights in the bush. Another reason I wasn’t a fan of Ian’s was if he properly greeted us the first time with a thorough introduction to the safari itinerary we might have been able to arrange alternate accommodations for the last few days of the safari. Quicker than you can say Zippy the Zebra Ian handed us over to a new team who would be with us at all times over the next three days. Max, our safari guide, Matt, the cook who would be preparing our three meals a day and Oddie, the barefoot laughing wonder boy who helped put everything together and take it apart day after day after day. Let’s back up for a minute, though. When Ian was telling us we would be CAMPING, IN THE BUSH, IN TENTS for the next six days it didn’t sink into my head at first or maybe I was in shock because it wasn’t until later that evening I found myself desperately trying to craft a solution to get us out of the bush and underneath a featherbed in a luxury lodge with a plunge pool, turndown service and chocolates on our pillows. Josh, on the other hand, heard Ian quite clearly. The news of camping for six days came across crystal clear. He camped once in his life on a Cub or Boy Scout trip with his father over 20 years ago. He liked it so much he hasn’t camped since. Immediately the writing was on the wall and Josh knew we were destined to be Bushmen for the next six days and nights so he resigned himself to go with the flow. This is why I loved traveling with Josh.

For anyone reading this blog I feel compelled to shine a spotlight on two different types of experiences offered on safari. I’m a bright girl and to have made this grave error means it could happen to other people. Two ways to experience a safari are 1) a $3,000 camping in the bush safari and 2) an $8,000 civilized lodge dwelling safari. Another way to put it is there are safaris with flushing toilets and those with trenches dug into the ground. What I learned from my safari experience and how to help you determine whether you’re a bushman or lodge dweller at heart is the following. If you REALLY enjoy camping and I don’t mean you like wearing the North Face clothing or shopping at REI or sipping a cup of hot chocolate in the chilled morning air. If you REALLY enjoy being in the great outdoors, eating three meals a day on aluminum plates and drinking instant coffee from aluminum mugs. If you get a thrill out of waking to the sound of a symphony of birds around your head or inhaling and exhaling fresh air. If you’re still having fun after five or six days of sleeping in a tent and taking one to two showers then there’s no question that the $3,000 camping safari is for you.

In my opinion (and I’m sure if you asked Josh he would have a different opinion), no amount of luxury can replace the excitement of sleeping in the bush among wild animals with no safety fencing between you and the hippos and hyenas. At first the excitement is fear-based. You don’t have a clue how to get around, you’re unprotected in the wild and your life is in another person’s hands. Usually when I do something for the first time it’s scary but I know it will only be scary that first time and then I might actually enjoy myself. Living in the bush we were just a minute away from viewing a morning killing that we might have not seen if we stayed in a lodge. We would have had to drive at least 45 minutes to get into the game park and either wake at 5am or miss one of the highpoints of the safari. Don’t get me wrong. By day three I was pining for luxury! In the very beginning I was so terrified the hairs on my arms stood so straight and stiff they could have broken. On the first night I woke Josh up to protect me while I used Mother Nature’s toilet. The following 5 days I was cut off from liquid after 7pm to try and avoid the situation all together. I still had to go and by the second night I adapted to the outdoors and braved the bush in the middle of the night.

Often I caught myself feeling like a little child driving around in a huge car with my feet hanging but not touching the ground with eyes wide open asking question after question. “How long are they pregnant?”, “Which animals do they kill?”, “Who eats them?”, “What kind of bird is that?”, “Where are the lions hiding?”. Our guide Max knew every answer to every question except one. On our last day I asked him for the name of a plant with bright yellow flowers. He said it was a, “yellow-flowered plant”. One question unanswered out of a million answered ones. Not bad!

Max was the best guide we could have had! He LOVES animals and was always eager to go looking for them even after driving six hours through flooded roads. Baboons were his favorite. He loved playing with them. When we came across baboons he would stop the Land Rover turn off the engine and watch them play for the longest time. He led us to animals as if he had prearranged a meeting with them. First he’d check the sand for tracks. Point his finger in a particular direction and say, “this is where the lion is”. Sure enough, he’d drive us to see the lion. Max has the eyes of an eagle, playfulness of a baboon, confidence of a lion and patience of a bushman. Luckily for us, he was our guide.

Every day we took two safari drives. First one was after breakfast around 7am for four or five hours. Then back to the campsite for lunch and a three-hour nap to try and sleep off the heat. The second drive was from 3 to 6. The sunsets were surreal. There’s nothing but sky for miles and miles. By the end of the trip we saw 23 different animals. In addition to what I’ve already listed we saw; velvet monkeys, sable antelope, steenbok (smallest antelope), red eared fox, ostrich (maybe that’s a bird?), jackals, kudu antelope, lions and lioness, crocodile, monitor lizard, pooku antelope, and a pack of wild dogs mauling a baby impala.

There was one food highlight on the trip. We had a very special treat on our last night. Matt cooked us a traditional Botswanan meal of Seswang and Papa. Locals call it Seswang and Pop. It’s like shredded cooked beef with white corn meal polenta. It was really tasty and FUN to eat with our hands! See recipe below.

Even though we didn’t actually sign up to be Bushmen and forego the basic comforts of daily life I’m so happy I had the experience of living in the bush for six days. I might not have met Max the courageous and playful or been a part of Oddie and Matt’s infectious laughter. I’d like to do another safari and complete the BIG FIVE list. Lion, Buffalo, Elephant, Rhino and Leopard. Will I camp or plunge? Hopefully both.

Matt’s Recipe for Seswang and Papa

You eat this dish with your hands. First take a bit of pop and mold it into a strip shape like a sushi chef and then dip the pop into your shredded beef so you get the beef to stick onto the pop. Then it goes in your mouth.

These steps were dictated to me by Matt. It hasn’t been tested yet at home so there might need to be some tweaking.

1. Salt shredded beef and cook on very low heat for 3 hours. Add a little vegetable oil. You want the beef to dry out. Don’t stir too much until the beef is dry and then stir.
2. Put water in pot and bring to boil (not sure how much water)
3. In separate bowl, stir together a ¼ litre cold water and 4 tablespoons white corn powder (white maize).
4. Stir cold water and maize mixture into boiling water
5. Let boil for 3 minutes and don’t stir
6. Add more maize for desired texture – should be like polenta
7. Lower head and cover for 4-5 minutes
8. Uncover and stir well.
9. Serve shredded beef on the side of papa. Enjoy.

Iguazzu Falls

December 14 – 16, 2005
Iguazzu Falls, Argentina (most northern tip)

By this point Josh and I had covered almost all four corners of Argentina in ten days. A little insane to do so much in such a short amount of time but we’re young and fit so why not? Also, Josh’s boss would only give him four weeks off from work :):):) and we still needed time for the safari, more wine tasting and a deserving respite on the beach.

Arriving in Iguazzu felt like landing in Disneyland. A welcoming committee of beautiful bright yellow butterflies showed us the way to our hotel. (I’m always excited to follow a butterfly. Secretly, I think my friend Ray O’Neal has a playful hand in the adventure.) The land looked lush and tropical and not much else in the way of development. Our hotel was selected for its location. Behind registration a wall of ceiling-to-floor windows for center orchestra views of the mist and tip of the falls. We put our bags in the room, sprawled out our month’s worth of stuff as we did in each hotel every 2-3 days and headed for the falls.

It was HOT, HOT, HOT. We noticed everyone coming from the lower viewing point (this was called Inferior but had nothing to do with the impressiveness of the gush) was soaking wet so we went that way. Amusement parks aren’t my thing and I’m not into water rides or roller coasters but when it’s 100% humidity and too hot to sit on a rock I’m thrilled to board a boat that takes me towards the mouth of a bone crushing waterfall. There isn’t anything I can say to describe the falls to do them justice. Josh grew up in Venezuela, home to Angel Falls the tallest waterfalls in the world, and said Iguazzu Falls are more impressive. The width and magnitude of water that pours over is an amazing site.

There’s another perspective of Iguazzu Falls in Iguazzu National Park, Brazil, just over the border. The drive and some red tape that our driver handled for us took less than one hour. I liked the view from Argentina better but since you’re there it’s worth the trip. If we hadn’t gone I wouldn’t have seen the methods of sterilization one has to go through when driving across the border. When you’re coming from Brazil into Argentina you have to step on a soapy foam pad. From Argentina into Brazil the car drives through a soapy tire bath. Whatever. Click on Iguazzu Falls pictures to the right of this posting.

Next up, 9-day safari in Botswana

Buenos Aires

December 11 - 13, 2005

Buenos Aires, 3 nights/2 days

Josh and I caught a local futbol game our first night in the city.  River vs. I can't remember the other team's name.  I've attended many live sports events in my life but I've never witnessed anything like the cheering that went on at this game.  Made me feel like the weakest fan ever.  The fans divide themselves on both sides of the stadium and once the game starts so does the cheering.  It doesn't stop until the game is over and the away team's fans are ushered out of the stadium first.  Then, ten minutes later, the home team fans are allowed to exit.  It's THAT intense.  Good thing cerveza isn't served in the stadium.

People say the meat is SUPERB in Buenos Aires.  Dolores, our new friend from Mendoza, said the meat is softer in Buenos Aires than in other parts of Argentina because the cows have less room to roam.  She also said there's a saying about the Portenos, God is everywhere but his office is in Buenos Aires.  A little inter-country rivalry, I suppose.  Apparently Portenos have a reputation of being a bit stuck up.  We didn't experience any attitude.

Our first day, while driving from the airport to the hotel, I was immediately struck by the smell of grilled meat.  It was as if the beef was sending me a message.  Fred Flintstone came to mind.  Remember the scent of Wilma's cooking curling through the air and lifting Fred up off the ground by his nose to bring him home for dinner.  The smell of Buenos Aires meat was carrying me into the city.

After the futbol game we skipped dinner that first night unless you would call shriveled up hamburgers at River Stadium dinner.  A migraine decided to make an appearance and I needed to sleep it off.  Just about the only thing that would get me to skip a meal.  On our second night we tried the meat at Cabana Las Lilas Restaurant in the Puerto Madero area.  I would say it was the second best meal on the trip until that point in time.  (Familia Zuccardi in Mendoza still holding the number 1 spot.  Also grilled meats.  Just getting my fill before I turn vegetarian in India for 7 weeks.)  We were tipped off in advance to request a table outside overlooking the water.  Muy romantico!  The inside of the restaurant was equally beautiful with a mixture of leather and wood furnishings.  From the looks of the tables around us people enjoyed their steak and red wine wholeheartedly.  Big Malbecs alongside big meat!

A DINNER TO SAVOR!

*  Wide assortment of freshly baked breads, cheeses, meats and pates

*  Morcilla (Blood Sausage) - I think Josh ordered Morcilla each and every time we went somewhere and it was on the menu.  He loves it that much.

*  Salad of Greens, Hearts of Palm, Tomato and Onion

*  Bife de Chorizo (rumpsteak)

*  Asado de Tira (rib strip)

*  Cheesecake

If I were you I'd book a flight to BA and reserve a table inside or outside at Cabana Las Lilas.  Please let me know when you'll be there so I can take a detour and meet you for dinner.

Cabana Las Lilas  ph: 431301336 www.laslilas.com.ar

Buenos Aires, like New York City, is meant to be walked so we walked and walked and walked.  Our hotel was situated in the center of town near Recoletta so we decided to divide the city and comb each half over two days.  Day one we headed west towards San Telmo to see some street Tango.  Then further west to La Boca in search of Josh's father's favorite pizza joint, Banchero.  La Boca isn't a neighborhood you need to see.  UNLESS you're fanatical about pizza like we are.  It's Chicago-style which isn't my favorite but very good.  Quilmes, the local beer, empanadas and pizza at Banchero.  Worth the trek.

Another trek was for the so-called excellent SHOPPING!  There's supposedly great shopping in BA but I wasn't finding any.  Maybe that's because my attention is usually directed towards food and not fashion but I was trying to find the hip latin threads but was unsuccessful.  Should have checked with my friends at Lucky Magazine first.  Oh well.  Plaza Serrano had a few cute stores but it is basically a mall.  In one of the shops I liked Josh hung out with the security guard.  He said the crime in BA is horrible.  No one drives nice cars because they all get hijacked.  Not even sports celebs drive nice cars.  Sounds serious. 

Another shocker about BA was the mullet - it's alive and going strong.  You remember the mullet, don't you?  The young guys all have total 80's hairdos.  It's hilarious.

Next destination is Iguazzu Falls.  It boarders Brazil at the very tippy top of the western side of Argentina.