Yesterday i got to visit the childhood home of Che Guevara, where he spent his childhood in the town of Alta Gracia. The highlight was the store at the back of the home/museum, where you could buy all kinds of cool kitsch celebrating the life and work of the man who made it his life's work to save the exploited from capitalism, for the most part. So I bought a poster. Another highlight was standing next to his motorcycle, "La Poderosa", which he rode through South America on his trip north- the trip that was the story behind "The Motorcycle Diaries." 
We also celebrated Spain's religious fervor of the seventeenth century by taking a little tour of the Jesuit mission, also in Alta Gracia. The complex was built to house the spiritual forces of conquest, those who came to convert the primitive Guarani people, indigenous to northern Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay and southern Brazil. Next to the massive cathedral, whose adjoining complex of living quarters boasted bathrooms with running water (OK, a glorified indoor outhouse with a canal underneath) was a series of slaves quarters. More than three hundred fifty oppressed men, women and children made this glorious celebration of God's grace possible. They also dug Cordoba province's first man-made lake, which is right outside the windows of the mission. 
Today was the last day of teaching, tonight was the send-off of host families, and our students' last night out on the town. I suspect they'll be dancing until 3AM. I, however, will be sleeping. This habit of late nights among our students has lately resulted in an outbreak of sore throats and lost voices, and today two kids missed class to stay in bed. Tonight we called up the "ambulance", which in Argentina is the small, ambulance-like truck that drives up to your house, and out of which a person dressed like an EMT hops (tackle box in hand), only to give you a quick once over and write up a prescription on the spot, for a donation of 5 pesos (US$1.80). I love this country.
It seems in life that for every convenience, there's an equal and opposite annoyance, however. In Latin America, it's the cars that drive around with a set of opposing bullhorns the diameter of my kitchen table blasting amplified adverts about tonight's bar specials, etc. That, and the street dogs- as numerous as stop signs, but fortunately as peaceful and pacified as if on permanent siesta.
Here's a pic of a downtown street in Villa Carlos Paz. Note the ubiquity of motor scooters. 
The coolest tree in the world is found in Argentina- not sure if it's the national tree, but it's definitely deserving of such a title. It's called "palo borracho", or drunken stick...because of its paunch. It stores water in that tummy, but it may as well be Newcastle. 
This is our street in Carlos Paz...
Here's a shot of a local empanaderia, where they make empanadas, the national snack (you can turn just about anything into a turnover)...
