Cab Ride on the Nueve de Julio, Buenos Aires

Singing on the streets

Dispatch from Buenos Aires, Argentina
Text and Photos by Jason McKenney

The four of us jumped into the rickety green cab with the balding tires, packing in hip-to-hip like Greeks in a wooden horse, me and my wife, her cousin and his girlfriend. The inside smelled faintly of cigar smoke and stale cologne. Our driver, a pudgy man with sagging eyes who I believe was named Carlos, sped off with a jolt, merging into the stream of traffic like a fat salmon searching for home. We had left the Palacio Duhau Park Hyatt Hotel in the Paris-esque neighborhood of Recoleta, our souls brimming with excitement and our bellies warm with espresso, jovially buzzing along the 9 de Julio Avenue, a road that demands to be seen and savored by all who tread upon her.

While being informed by Carlos, slim cigarillo perched gently in the corner of his mouth, that 9 de Julio is the widest avenue in the world (7 lanes each way!) I realized that his gas tank was empty. The needle was at the bottom and the orange warning light was on. Strange enough, that wasn’t the first time I had noticed such a warning in consoles of these Buenos Aires cabs. “Gas is full. Needle is broke,” was the explanation we were given. “All is fine!”

Tango dancing in the square

The 9 de Julio is named after the day of Argentina’s independence in 1816. It runs past a number of beautiful historical sites in one of the more eclectic and scenic areas of Buenos Aires. “On the right you’ll see the French Embassy, an architectural masterpiece,” said Carlos (Travel Tip: Best to travel to Argentina if you know Spanish or if you travel with someone who can translate for you). “There is the Teatro Colón, considered one of the top opera houses in the world by those who know. Very beautiful.”

Both the Teatro and the Embassy building are splendid examples of the châteaux style of French architecture also showing tendencies from the Italian Renaissance. Sturdy block foundations, slate roof tiles, bronze and iron work, and beveled lead crystal window panes dominate the exterior. Stout, firm, immovable. The interior of these buildings are decorated luxuriantly with marble staircases, hand-crafted boiseries, chandeliers with lead crystal prisms, glass lamp shades, and ornate gilded mirrors. But we have no time to stop now. On we go, darting from lane to lane, passing busses, avoiding bicyclists, my eyes as wide as the Lincoln Tunnel in an attempt to take in everything as we progress.

“The Obelisk. Built in 1936 in honor of the 400 hundredth anniversary of the initial founding of the city. As great as anything you’ll see in Europe.” The structure is actually a near replica the Washington Monument, just 2-and-a-half times smaller. Carlos was correct, the architecture was quite stunning and appeared the equal of anything that Marseille or Florence could offer, but what increasingly began to capture our attention was the bubbling crowds of loud protesters gathering along the grassy medians and around nearly every intersection.

Monument to Giuseppe Garibaldi

Latin America has always held mixed emotions for me. It’s a place steeped in history, beauty, and color, but it’s also a place of great aggravation for many of its citizens who sometimes live in downright squalor thanks to the rampant hubris and vanity of their fearless leaders. With a tradition of “reform” and “justice” punctuated by charismatic archetypes like Ché, Castro, Allende, and Chávez, South America is replete with power-hungry leaders who have convinced much of the lower classes that they are fighting for them when they are actually using them for political leverage. Public protests become more common in places where the national leadership spends so much time micro-managing options available in the daily lives of the people, whether it be opening a small business or being able to purchase toilet paper. I would have been very disappointed to fly all the way to Argentina and not see at least one loud protest.

“What are they protesting?” asked my wife’s cousin, Ande. We were all mesmerized by the loud chanting, colorful banners, playing of drums and horns, the banging of pots and pans. This is what the locals refer to as a cacerolazo, or a good ol’ fashioned pot-banging protest. Thankfully, the crowds were peaceful and orderly and kept out of the way of traffic. Carlos, both a pundit and a cynic, informed us why these people were putting on such a good face for the numerous news vans that were hovering around them.

A curious art bus

“These protesters have all been paid for by the President [of Argentina, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, recently replaced by Mauricio Macri], and they’ve been bused in for a show of support for her before the cameras.” According to Carlos, much of the Argentine public stands against the President due to her poor economic record and growing distrust with the populace. “The tax payers are funding this circus against our will,” said Carlos. “Our money goes to pay for these protesters to create a façade for the rest of the world to see, and they will think all of Argentina stands in support of the President.”

Carlos went on to claim the politicians are engaging in an ongoing campaign to get rid of the middle class in Argentina, particularly in Buenos Aires. The upper class will be soaked for taxes while the lower class will be soaked for votes. The middle class serves little purpose for politicians whose primary goal is to gain and retain power. A suspicious view, yes, but the passionate arguments made by the locals can sound persuasive.

Japanese Garden of BA

In 2008, Kirchner created conflicts with the agricultural sector of Argentina due to her administration’s new taxation system. Protests erupted throughout the countryside. In 2009, it was discovered that her personal assets had increased seven times over in just the six years since her inauguration. Allegations of impropriety swelled and bellowed. In 2012, hundreds of thousands of citizens met in various cities around the nation to protest poor economic policies that had led to an astounding 25% inflation rate that year alone. When I arrived in Buenos Aires in 2014, the market for $US was so great that one could exchange greenbacks on the street for anywhere from 30-50% more Argentine pesos than the official exchange rate. These bonus pesos were referred to affectionately as “blue dollars.”

Taking a seat at the

Museum of Modern Art

If there was ever a way to “experience” Buenos Aires in just twenty minutes, a cab ride along the 9 de Julio is probably the closest a visitor can get. Between the buildings, the landmarks, and the people, a tourist can dip their feet into the dark and swirling waters of a nation filled with conflict, strife, passion, and culture. A place that revels in its European roots while pushing to assert itself as a leader in Latin America. But the ride is short-lived and my stomach is now rumbling. Turning off 9 de Julio, we continued on our way to the neighborhood of San Telmo to have lunch at a world class steak joint called La Brigada. I hear they love their bovine so much that even their menus are made of furry cowhide.

California Gold: Photos of Venice Beach

Early morning in Venice Beach can be a very quiet and beautiful time. These snaps were taken the morning after a rare rainfall bringing an extra layer of brooding texture to the flamboyant coastal city.

Lifeguard training session

Santa Monica to the north

California Gold: The Canals of Venice

A hot topic of conversation in certain parts of LA recently has centered on the potential secession of Venice from the city of LA. The term “Vexit” has already been bandied about.  Currently Venice is considered a neighborhood of the West side of LA. The locals are looking to their Santa Monica neighbors to the north, however, and are thinking they can operate independently as they do. The final decision probably won’t be made anytime soon but I was still looking forward to taking Frankie out to see the canals on an early Saturday morning.

The man-made canals of the Venice Canal Historic District were built in 1905 by developer and conservationist Abbot Kinney. They were a part of his Venice of America development plan. Kinney sought to recreate the appearance and feel of Venice, Italy, in Southern California.

Back in the day, the beautifully lit canals with their arched bridges and calming atmosphere drew widespread publicity and helped sell lots in the development. Today, many of the multi-million dollar houses lining the canals are jaw-dropping. It’s hard to imagine there was a stretch from the 1940s through the 1980s when some of the canals were condemned, being filled in out of disrepair, and thought of as outdated. The canals were finally renovated in 1992 and re-opened in 1993.

I allowed Frankie to walk along the sidewalks along canals on her own. While she was fascinated by the water and the bushes and the ducks, I was fascinated by the architecture. The houses cover a range of styles from Mediterranean to Colonial to Modern to Beachy.  Some were three stories high with decks at each level. Some had relaxing water fountains, marbled patios that reminded me of 5-star hotels, and wide bay windows. Contractors were already busy at a couple different houses putting in upgrades, loading up new lumber, and washing off paneling.

I couldn’t help but wonder what lines of work the owners are (or were before retirement) in. Probably some from Hollywood, others from financial or medical fields. Some were foreigners based on a few conversations I overheard. A family of Scandinavians came rowing up one of the canals past me and Frankie. They smiled and wished us a good morning with Swedish accents and broad smiles.

After getting our walking exercise, I took Frankie to a popular Venetian breakfast café called Flake. It’s small and simple, but they offer some of the best croissant sandwiches in all of LA. I ordered a Croissan-wich Jones (eggs, bacon, and cheddar) and the popular Super Cro-Jo (eggs, bacon, smoked Gouda, greens, tomato, and a zesty sauce). Both were amazing and both were around $7 each.

Venice is a unique and important piece of the LA tapestry. Whether it votes to secede from LA proper or stay probably doesn’t make much of a difference to non-Venetians as long as their borders are open for visitors to drop in, enjoy the wonderful sights, engage in commerce, sample the delicious food and art, and then be on their way. It certainly worked for me.

California Gold: The Callaway Winery of Temecula

Callaway vineyards

The first wineries started popping up ahead of us right about the same time I began to wonder if we were ever actually going to arrive anywhere that day. We had left Long Beach more than two hours earlier. We had headed east to Corona before turning south on the 15. We were surrounded by desolate hills and a clear, blue sky.

Temecula is in Riverside County, about 20 miles inland so one doesn't have the ocean as a reference point. The air is dry and the altitude is relatively high (1500 ft) creating a rich atmosphere for growing grapes.

I was spending the day with some friends who were new to wine tasting, but who loved road trips. My friend John had discovered a Callaway sweet wine from another friend. While he and his wife preferred the sweet, my tastes lean more towards dry. Callaway Cabs are smooth and pleasant. The Dolcettos are dark and spicy. The Zinfandels are light-bodied with hints of strawberries and flowers.

Wine fermentation vats

Callaway wines can only be purchased at the winery or online. Their good reds aren't inexpensive, but joining their wine club does provide a decent discount.

The Temecula wine region is filled with a number of popular destinations for western winos like myself. The Rancho California Road alone is home to Hart, Mount Palomar, Bel Vino and many others. The region falls deep in the shadow of the more popular Napa Valley and Central Coast regions of the state, but Temecula is a wonderful excursion point for anyone who loves beautiful scenery, good food, and discovering new wine.

Aging in oak barrels

John and his wife and a successful haul

Summer Holiday in Villarrica, Chile

Lago Villarrica

Text and photos by Jason McKenney

The plane from Santiago was a tight fit. One of those small transports with just two seats on either side of the aisle. The flight lasted roughly ninety minutes into the Temuco Maquehue Airport in southern Chile. A rental car from the airport spawned an eighty minute drive to the picturesque community of Villarrica nestled amongst a range of mountain peaks beside a large lake of the same name (Lago Villarrica).

The volcano

The Villarrica Volcano (Volcán Villarrica) overlooks the lake from the west like a giant fixture from Tolkien. The top is snow-capped but constantly puffing white tendrils of steam. “It won’t blow,” promised one of the locals with a wink. “You can go ski on it if you want.” I think I’ll pass this time.

I am traveling with my wife’s family: her parents and sister. We have rented out one of the lake-front cabins in an area called Huimpalay-Tray. Several such cabins line the southeast rim of the lake. We picked up groceries for our 5-day visit at a small market along the highway. We grabbed sausages and bread, eggs and veggies, wine and ice cream, condiments and charcoal. Enough sustenance to live like Kings.

Jason at the entryway

These certainly aren’t cabins as Abraham Lincoln would know them. There’s a full kitchen, den, and three bedrooms with two bathrooms. The master bedroom has large windows presenting a perfect view of the tranquil lake. The feeling is of a spacious ski lodge with wood paneling, vaulted ceilings, and a cozy furnace in the main room.

The kitchen is stocked with dishes and silverware. We give all of it a good rinsing after putting away the groceries. A maid shows up each morning to tidy up while we’re out exploring. It is pampered living but within the confines of a magnificent natural scene that’s miles away from any urban disruptions.



A Chilean Answer to the Alps

Pathways away from the water

It’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s in South America which means it’s the height of summer holiday. Families have filled up the other cabins. Young people are riding jet skis. Dads are firing up grills. Moms are lounging in the sun. The lake is as placid as a duck pond. Like a giant mirror, it reflects the natural habitat around it in remarkable ways until a speedboat skims across the surface pulling screaming skiers behind it. The ripples spread out for miles in their wake.

Overcast on the lake

Much of our time was filled with walks along the lake, grilling chorizo, and sucking down Terremotos (white wine with pineapple ice cream). There are several pleasant nature hikes that lead off in various directions away from the water. Spectacular National Park Reserves lie to the east of the lake. Beyond those reserves lies Argentina.

Some of the hikes are quiet and peaceful. Trails lead through shaded archways of old trees and fresh flowers. Birds chirp, squirrels rustle, but hardly a sound can be heard from the busy lake. Other trails go past small waterfalls that roar with power. The water is runoff from the mountains above, gaining speed and momentum on its journey west.

Small waterfalls can be found
up the mountainside

Sightseeing Tour on the Lake

The harbor of Villarrica offers sightseeing boat tours that traverse the entirety of the lake. The lake itself extends nearly 13 miles east to west and seven miles north to south so there is plenty of room to stretch your legs. Roaming out with my wife and her sister, we paid a few pesos to ride one of the tour boats. It is summertime, but the wind off the water on this morning was cold forcing us to tighten our jackets and pull down our hats.

The shoreline was overflowing with greenery. Nearby hills were covered with grass and dotted with pine trees like a scene from The Sound of Music. Silver-blue mountains lined the horizon in the east like broad swipes from a painters brush. Fluffy clouds hung low and still from the blue sky above like sleeping angels.

Tiny speed boats sped around us. A couple of kayakers paddled by, giving us a wave while on their merry way. The white snow on the volcano glowed brightly in the sun like a giant headlamp. Like the eye of Sauron watching our every move.

Near the middle of the lake is a tiny island that reminded me of somewhere Huck Finn might hide out. It couldn’t be bigger than a soccer field but it’s covered with a thick layer of trees and brush. I wanted to swim ashore, build a campfire, and escape the world for a few days. Instead our boat eventually made its way back to the harbor and the equally pleasant “reality” of another day in Villarrica.

A Last Supper in Pucón

On the southwest edge of the lake is the little town of Pucón. It’s filled with shops for tourists, restaurants, and bars. There is also a small casino stocked with one-arm bandits and a blackjack room. After blowing a few thousand pesos on the slot machines (that’s just a couple dozen dollars US), we went out to eat. My wife’s father is of Syrian descent and he loves his Middle Eastern cuisine: falafel, stuffed vine leaves, hummus, and lamb. This was our last night at the lake. We found a great Arabian place in Pucón and gorged on Middle Eastern food and rich Chilean wine.

The next day we would have to leave. We would cram ourselves back into a tiny plane and fly north to Santiago. This short trip would then feel like just a dream. But those visions of the smoking volcano, the open lake, and the joy gained from family bonding would remain with each of us.

Chorizo on the grill

Our cabin - not exactly "roughing it"

Water skiing

At work in the kitchen

Another resort hotel in the distance.

The small island in the lake

A beautiful coastline

Buenas noches, Villarrica!