This country does not sleep. Last night I got home at 3AM. The night before, 4AM. This is evidently what some refer to as "fun." To others, it is merely exhausting. I count myself among the latter. Last night I regretted leaving the bar early, but my lungs felt like they were the size of field hockey balls (from the smoke and my respiratory debilitations)- which is funny, since smoking is against the law in bars here, but (due to what I've been told are..."mafia ties") the practice is evidently overlooked...to my (cough) chagrin.
Tonight Argentina lost to Brasil 0-2 in the finals of the Americas Cup soccer tournament, hosted in Venezuela. We watched the struggle while Gustavo's dad Cesar oversaw the asado grill with masterful grace. The amount of meat that is eaten here, per capita, has to rival that of the big cats exhibit at the Minnesota Zoo. It's a celebration of serving after serving of pork ribs, chicken, cuts of beef, blood sausage...a little at a time, for a looong time. 
This week marks our last full week in Argentina: Three days of class, a day trip to the hometown of Che Guevara (Alta Gracia), then Friday we take off by overnight bus for the relatively indigenous city of Salta, 12 or so hours north near the Bolivian border. I am looking forward to chewing some coca leaves and getting a little closer to the mountains again. 
Yesterday I accompanied Gus, Liv, Marivi and Christian on an all-day road trip north to La Cumbre, a high-end neighborhood with huge houses and a famous hotel that once accommodated Albert Einstein. We all left there feeling smarter. On the way to La Cumbre we caught some great views of Villa Carlos Paz and the lake (see pic above). We ate at "Hueso's" parrilla (grill) in La Falda on the way up, and went through the town of Cosquin, which is the annual site of a music festival that draws international acts like Molotov for the festivities.
Other less remarkable observations that have surfaced in my head this week: Everyone drives stickshifts here. No one is obese, and when asked about stereotypes generally held by Argentineans about North Americans, obesity is high on the list. Why? As one put it, America is home to a "refill" culture. In Latin America, nothing is "to go." Dinners are eaten at home, or at sit-down joints, predominantly. Sadly, though, the McDonalds parasite/pandemic is here. Favorite sports in Argentina include soccer, rowing, polo, rugby, field hockey, and NASCAR. (OK. Not NASCAR.) Cars don't care about pedestrians. (Cross the street at your own risk.) Here, you can have your car washed in the parking ramp. (Good idea.) Many brands of automobiles here, including the likes of Renault, Fiat and Peugeot, can run on either propane ("gas"), or petrol gasoline ("nafta"). It's pretty cool to see two huge, yellow tanks in the trunk of every car, in case the regular stuff is too expensive, or just not available. In Argentina, roadside altars to the Virgin Mary abound, as to tributes to Gauchito Gil, a character from Argentina's cowboy past. On just about every major road, at some point, you will pass a carved-out space in the rock, painted red and decorated with offerings of all types. Here, the radio stations that play contemporary rock and pop, much of it from the U.S. (but a respectable amount from the nation's musical talent, of which there is no shortage), also play a lot of older music from the '70s and '80s...we're talking healthy portions of Huey Lewis, Boy George, Dire Straits, Georg Michael, etc. It's not classic rock here, it's just plain good music that's been stuck on repeat for twenty five years. Here, everyone who isn't drinking malbec wine, Quielmes beer or some trendy combo of Red Bull with vodka is drinking Coca Cola with Fernet, a traditionally Italian variation of vermouth. Again, a tip of the hat to that madre patria.
That's all for today's dispatches from the interior. (The rumored geographical center of Argentina...Villa Carlos Paz). 
