Posted in USA on May 22nd, 2009
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Palacio Barolo
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“Once a bum, always a bum”
Our Book Club from a former life is reading John Steinbeck’s “Travels with Charley”. We picked up a copy since we will be returning to normal life soon and hope to pick up the threads from where we left off. I do not know whether they chose this book on purpose or whether it is just a conincidence, but no book could be more appropriate to read at this time, to follow the beginning of a journey as we approach the end of ours. Our experinces are fresh in our minds, and it is interesting to compare them with another’s. All the quotes in this article are from this book, John Steinbeck’s “Travles with Charley”.
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Posted in Argentina on May 15th, 2009
Esq. Pasco y Moreno The sound of English is loathsome. The syllables of the guttural tongue scratch my eardrums like cat claws. New York City is surprisingly clean and mature leafy trees shade the small streets of the Upper East Side which are filled with rich young mothers out for a stroll with their babies […]
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Posted in Argentina on May 6th, 2009
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At MALBA
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The Divine Comedy and the Story of a Merchant’s Dream.
(Map this!)
Nel mezzo del camin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva scura,
chè la dritta via era smarrita.
– Dante Alighieri, “L’Inferno”
With these famous lines we enter hell. Or rather, the first (ground) floor of Palacio Barolo, the product of a fantastic dream of a rich textile merchant of twentieth century Argentina, Luis Barolo.
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Posted in Argentina on May 2nd, 2009
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Palacio Barolo
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Southern South America – Terminus – Long term Travel – The Travelers – The Nature of Long Term Travel – Going Home
At its Southern tip South America looks like an inverted cone, squeezing all travelers into a limited area. Thus, it seemed to us that the continent was suddenly full of overlanders from Europe, America and Australia. In contrast to the rest of our journey, we were greeting at least one expedition vehicle a day.
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Posted in Argentina, Reflections on Apr 27th, 2009
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Contemplating Koi
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To a certain extent this post assumes familiarity with the Borges’ short story “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius”, which you can find here.
The freeways around Buenos Aires form a vast labyrinth with snaking asphalt paths. “Take that exit. No that one, THAT exit!” “Fuck! We almost got creamed by that bus, you’re going to get us killed!” “Shit! Is this where we’re supposed to be?” “We’re lost. Where the fuck are we going?” “I don’t know. According to the GPS we’re right where we’re supposed to be.” “Okay, we’re on Pasco. And there’s Moreno.” “Here it is. WTF. Where are we?“
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