Mar del Plata

Our first stop after leaving Buenos Aires was the crowded beach town of Mar del Plata. This is a very popular vacation spot during the summer, yet it becomes a ghost town of retirees during the off-season from what we are told. We booked a room in a hostel that is two blocks from the beach, as we didn't feel we were going to spend much time exploring the downtown area where most hostels are located. It is a cute little building called Casa del Balcon, and the staff was very friendly and accommodating during our stay.

Before we headed to the beach, we found a small pizzeria for a quick lunch. Upon taking our order, I was prompted to give my name so that we could be summoned when our food was ready. I guess they don't serve too many people named "Jeff," because when we returned the next day (we eat a lot of pizza here), I saw the cashier write "Jeef" on out ticket signifying that he both remembered us and was unfamiliar with my name. I was both flattered and amused, so I smiled, ordered, and sat down to watch fútbol highlights on the flatscreen while I waited for the "Jeeeef!" that would signify that half of a tasty mozzarella pie and an empañada were waiting at the counter.

We arrived too late to spend much time at the beach on our first day, and after about two hours of sand and sun, we went back to the room to get ready for the soccer match that evening. As per usual, this turned into nap-hour. When we awoke, we had barely enough time to scramble across town and buy tickets before the game began. We bought the inexpensive tickets, not knowing that we would be restricted to the area behind the endline where the die hard fans hang banners and chant, sing, and drum as if they had all been taking herbal stimulants to prepare for a religious ritual.

During halftime, we made our way to the middle of the craziness as the crowd thinned for a moment to relieve its bladder and have a sausage. When the game picked back up, we were surrounded by CABJ supporters. This team represents Boca, one of the poorest barrios in all of Buenos Aires, so of course we were treated to a cacophonous chorus of "turistas!" and "gringos!" by tattooed, leather-skinned ruffians, and we decided not to take pictures for fear of further identifying ourselves as outsiders. I made the mistake of staring for too long at a drug deal, and this caught the attention of a "scout" who was watching for cops. I guess he didn't care for my wandering eye, and most of the bashing came from his company. We pretended that they were addressing other white Americans, and picked up to find "better seats."

I've been to my fair share of sporting events, but I have never experienced such fanaticism. In 1997, I went to a Yankees-Indians playoff game in the Bronx and the Yanks hit back-to-back-to-back homers to erase a two run deficit. The crowd of 55,000+ went wild and the stadium was shaking beneath my feet. Yet CABJ fans managed to maintain this enthusiasm for all 90 minutes of a regular season game. The team was down 2-3, and around the 84th minute, a mother and her younglings made their way for an exit. Lauren and I followed suit, as we didn't want to stick around when moods turned sour after a loss. When we were about 100 meters away from the stadium, Boca Juniors netted the equalizer, which I was both sad and relieved to have missed.

http://footballchants.wordpress.com/category/boca-juniors

These videos are a pretty accurate representation of our experience.

The next morning, I ventured into town to find a market to buy food for dinner. I picked up two beautiful cuts of steak, an adobe spice rub, a delicious bottle of wine (Alma Mora Malbec, 2007), fresh pasta, and a myriad of veggies for a salad (along with garlic and yellow string beans for the pasta), all for around $14 American. I was very excited by all of this, and we cut our beach time short that evening so we could return to the hostel and prepare our meal.

¡Buen Provecho!

We managed to get up early on our third day at the beach, mainly because we had to check out of our hostel. We left our bags at the front desk, and enjoyed a full day by the water as the crowd filled in around our stake-out. All of the Argentines were drinking maté, which is a beverage prepared by pouring hot water over a crushed herb and is taken through a metal straw. It is rather invigorating, and the way they share it with one another is significant of their benevolent attitudes toward the people around them. After grabbing both a burger and a quick cold water rinse, we retired to the grassy hillside by the ocean (as many others had chosen to do) before we caught our overnight bus to our next destination, a coastal town named Puerto Madryn that is surrounded by wildlife preservations.

La Vida Buena