Buenos Aires

Since my mother came to visit me in New Zealand, my father and I came up with a plan to meet up in Buenos Aires for a week in Argentina. I had heard many great things about this city, so I was anxious to get there and see what all the fuss was about. The best way to sum up our week in one word would be "steak." Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I felt like I gained ten pounds in a week I ate so much of it, but it was all so good!

We spent 5 days in BA and did quite a bit of touring. We had a general tour of the city and the many diverse neighborhoods including Palermo Soho and Palermo Hollywood. We visited cemeteries and monuments while learning the (corrupt) history of the country. One day we were lucky enough to visit the studio of an artist and have a personal discussion with him about his work.

One of the highlights included taking a cooking class at a local restaurant. Argentina is very well known for its meat, and one reason is the country's cooking method: the asado grill. While in America we use a flame grill, asado grills involve heating wood and coals and then placing the hot coals underneath the grill to cook the meat. It does take much longer to cook, but the meat is so tender and juicy. Our chef taught us where different cuts of the meat came from on the cow, local specialties, and even made us try some local favorites. We were forced to try cow kidneys, and I can certainly say it is one of my two most hated foods in the world (along with vegemite). Just nasty. Looked gross, tasted worse. But later the chef made us the prime cut of this cow just for us, and it might have been the tastiest piece of steak I've ever eaten.

We even got to take polo lessons one day (after having watched a match...more on that later). I have only ridden western saddles in horses; so not only was I supposed to figure out how to stay on this horse while standing in my stirrups (instead of sitting in the saddle) and with no horn to hold on to, but I was also expected to swing this six-foot long mallet, hit a tiny little ball, and not hit the horse all at the same time. Needless to say, I spent most of the time on the horse walking.

After BA my dad and I flew down to Patagonia to do some fly fishing. My father has loved fly fishing for a long time, but I had never had the pleasure. I set my expectations low, figuring I might catch a fish or two. The first one I caught was about five inches long, I don't even know how it got hooked. I did not feel any better at this moment. But by the end of the trip I had caught 12 fish to my father's ten. Woot woot (to be fair, he did catch the biggest fish, a 21inch brown trout while my biggest was a 20 inch rainbow trout).

The scenery was incredible: mountains in every direction with the bending river at our feet. The lodge we stayed at was great: a long history of returning guests with fantastic food and the nicest owners you'll ever meet. Our guides were also so helpful, teaching me everything I needed to know for a quick three day experience while proving to be pretty funny. And my philosophy on fish--that they're stupid--still hasn't changed.