Futbollllllllllll!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I finally went to an Estudiantes game.  It....was....awesome.  Sorry all, change of plans, I'm going to stay and live here indefinetely now just so that I can become a socia (club member) and go to all of the games.  Ok, I'm not, but I kind-of really-want to.

The back story is this.  Pedro is a life-long fan of Estudiantes de La Plata.  Estudiantes has an amazing team right now (and have been cursed recently with some amazing bad luck).  They lost the Club World Cup Final in December against Barcelona in double overtime.  All spring they have been playing in two competitions,  the Argentine Torneo Clausura (season-closing tournament) and the Copa Libertadores tournament which determines which western-hemisphere team plays in the Club World Cup.  With the Nations' World Cup happening this June, the other tournaments have compressed their schedules; over the last 111 days Estudiantes has averaged one game every 3.8 days.  They played their furthest game recently in Mexico, at elevation after an 11 hour flight, with games in Argentina four days before and after. 

The Torneo Clausura ended last Sunday with Estudiantes in second place in Argentina, but contending as the only Argentinian team left in the Copa Libertadores.  Last night was the final game of the Copa Libertadores quarter-finals, with Estudiantes playing against Inter from Brazil (Internacional de Porto Allegre).

When we first arrived, going to a soccer (er futbol) game wasn't one of my top priorities.  Later, after I'd been fully brainwashed and indoctrinated from hours upon hours of televised futbol, we discovered that getting me into a game was going to be tough.  To go to an Estudiantes game, you have to be a card-carrying member of the club.  ie. you have to pay around $10 a month in order to have the right to buy a ticket.  Pedro's membership is no longer active, and the only way he could reactivate it would be by paying the four years of back-dues (meh).  I could theoretically become a member in order to go see a game....except that Estudiantes is so popular right now they're not accepting new members (hm).

As the quarter-finals in Quilmes would be the last game of the season before all of the Nations World Cup baloney begins, it became desperate that we FIND A WAY to go to a game.  Santiago bought us tickets, and got me the membership card of the sister of a friend of his.  A girl who looks nothing like me.  Pedro borrowed his Dad's card, and also hoped that security wouldn't notice that he's 50 lbs lighter and 25 years younger than the photo.

Santiago picked us up at 5:45 so that we would get to the stadium, park and get seats before the game at 8.  The drive was fairly uneventful other than an unfortunate collision between Pedro and the mate cup (yes, herbs and boiling water all over), and a few wrong turns trying to find the stadium.

I was extremely nervous walking into the stadium.  We passed umptold number of policeman and went through 3 separate lines of security.  My heart was thumping as I tried to look experienced, nonchalant in my red and white Estudiantes jersey, and also tried to remember NOT to say a word lest my accent give me away.  I was terrified that at any moment someone would ask to see my id and I'd be left outside of the stadium, SO CLOSE!

After making it through the last line of security (in my excitement I accidentally said "gracias" but luckily the ticket-taker did not grab my arm and drag me back), all that was left was to be frisked by the riot police and then I was in!

Quilmes stadium is a loaner while the club is remodelling their own, and it only seats around 30,000 or so.  Since we got in around 6:30 we were able to get some good seats in the Platea section.  We had great views of the whole field as well as of the Tribuna section where there are no seats and everyone is euphorically mashed together.  Santiago and I went outside to get Choripanes (bbq'd italian sausages in a bun), and again I tried to look like a professional as we passed through security one last time.

The rival team entered the field first, and rather than boo, the crowd whistled piercingly.  Estudiantes entered to the sounds of a claxon, fireworks and the crowd chanting "Estudio! Estudio!" Then the crowd began to sing altogether and didn't stop until halftime, only pausing to shout "Hey!" whenever Inter committed a (perceived) foul.  The songs were amazing.  In the Tribuna there was a full-on band playing horns and giant drums, and everyone around them jumped, shook their arms and sang.  Much of what they were singing is not at all PC, yet it was impossible not to get swept up in the enthusiasm.  I wished I could understand the lyrics so that I could sing along too.

In the first half Estudiantes made two goals, putting it in the lead to continue on to the next round (in a previous game Inter had made one goal, so Estudiantes was up by one).  The crowd was ecstatic.  Someone threw their shoes at the Inter goalie; they didn't hit him.  At half time the teams tramped off the field, Inter retreating to the locker-room through an inflateable tunnel so that they wouldn't be hit by projectiles coming from the stands.  Then around 15 more riot policemen joined the 30 or so who were already stationed on the sidelines.  These new policeman tramped out into the field in front of the Tribuna where the Barra Brava (soccer hooligans) hang out.  5 more policeman showed up with dogs that looked eager to chew someone's face off.  Nearby, the 15 year old boys who chase after balls on the sidelines during the game came onto the field to practice their soccer skills.

All of this is completely normal.

In the second half it was apparent that the players of Estudiantes were tired, particularly the defensors, but they managed to control the ball away from Inter for the most part.  Until some fans in the Barra Brava committed an unspeakable act that caused the wrath of the soccer gods to rain down upon their team.  Ok, I'll speak of it.

5 minutes before the end of the game, some idiots in the lower level of the Tribunas started to shoot off a massive amount of fireworks, celebrating the win of a game that was not yet over.  Everyone outside the Barra Brava became silent, shocked with horror.  The entire area of Estudiantes' goal filled with a thick smoke.  This was the moment when Brazil broke away, swept around the distracted defensors and kicked the ball into the smoke filled area.

Gol.  Bringing the score of the game to Estudiantes-2, Inter-1. However in aggregating points for the two game quarter final, a goal by a visiting team is worth two points.  In the next couple of minutes Estudiantes drove three attempts on Inter's goal that were all caught by the goalie.  And so Estudiantes won the game but was eliminated from the competition, 2-3. 

A couple of minutes after the game ended the alternate goalie for the Brazilian team ran up and hit one of the Estudiantes defensors (Desabato), and mayhem erupted on the field.  Several of the Estudiantes players ran after the guy, Chino Benitez threw an amazing flying slide tackle trying to catch him, and the Estudiantes goalie Orion ran all the way across the field to punch the guy just as he was entering the locker room.  What an incredible game :)  Thanks again Santi!

Flower picture of the day

Culture in Cachi

Cachi was probably our most "culturally rich" stop while touring the Valles Calchaquíes.  The locals fully embrace their northern traditions, melding a rich pre-colombian history and modern argentine obsessions.   One northern tradition that they are particularly faithful to is that of the Siesta.  We arrived on a Saturday afternoon, without any idea of what to do or where to stay, and found that the tourism office would be of zero help because they close during the siesta.  Which means that they're open from 9-noon, have a break until 6pm, and then decide that they don't really want to come back to work at 6 anyway :)

We had a similar experience at a bakery;  the sign on the door said that it would reopen at 6pm but when we knocked on the door at 6:30 nobody answered.  Upon investigating further (and by investigating I really mean continuing our walk along the sidewalk) we discovered an open window through which we could see the baker -- still napping.

I'm not knocking the Siesta.  Only clueless, time-restricted tourists willing walk around 1) in the heat of the day 2) in the desert 3)in a part of the world where there is a gaping hole in the ozone.

This picture is of the outside of the archeological museum in Cachi, on the central plaza.  The building was beautiful with an enormous amount of pre-columbian artifacts, and some "interesting" paper-mache exhibits.

There were so many grinding stones and metates that the floors were literally littered (hmm, how alliterative) with them.

There were also so many petroglyphs that people have found in their fields that the museum has turned them into a wall.

 Here's a close-up of a llama petroglyph.

Other places we checked out were:

The church (we didn't go in b/c it was packed with families watching their kids make their first communion).

The local library was a neat one-room place filled with REALLY old books.

Check out the Literature section.

And we checked out the soccer (excuse me, FUTBOL) field.

We just stumbled upon this game, and although it definetely wasn't Futbol de Primera A, B or C; it remains the only game I've attended while here in Argentina. [As a side note, this is not to belittle Pedro's efforts in brainwashing me with hours upon hours of televised futbol a la "Clockwork Orange."  He's had such success with me that I even recognized El Principito Sosa walking down the street in La Plata.]

But back to THIS game, Cachi against....Molinos?  I forget who the other team was, but I cannot forget their fans.  I have never heard such colorful language coming from 13 year-old girls before.  Across the field from where we were standing, you can see the requisite Hinchada (fan base) pounding on drums and blowing on brass horns.

Even the cops were into the game.

Driving through Quebrada de las Flechas

The drive from Cafayate to Cachi was less than two hundred kilometers as measured by the odometer of our little rental car, but measured by the numbness of our lower bodies it was more like a couple of thousand kilometers.

The enjoyment of scenery pales after 4 hours of driving on washer-board dirt roads, no matter how many idyllic scenes one passes of families riding to town on a tractor or of pastors herding their sheep.

I admit that I became a tad cranky during our journey into probably the most remote corner of the Salta province. 

 Around 50 km north of Cafayate we entered the most dramatic section of the drive: La Quebrada de las Flechas (Ravine of the Arrows).  The road drive right through the center of a dusty ravine that does bear semblance to 70 ft tall arrows pointed at the sky.

To paint the ravine you would need just three colors:  pale grey for the rocks, pale green to dot cactuses among them, and a brilliant blue for the sky.

Equally impressive as the ravine were the adobe houses that we found tucked amidst the rocks, blending in perfectly with their surroundings.  These houses are built out of nothing more than local dirt with cactus timber as support.  Never fear, modernity, despite their rustic construction many were equipped with a DirecTV dish.

After the Quebrada de las Flechas we passed through a long series of hay-filled valleys and low rocky passes.  We had lunch in an tiny town called Molinos that was founded in the 17th century and boasts street after street of adobe houses.

The only real sights to see in Molinos are the church (built in 1693) and the house of the last royalist governor. 

The governor's house has been turned into a luxury hotel with a pool and a beautiful view of alfalfa fields.  We checked; it was out of our price range.  The church boasts that it houses the governor's mummy.  Luckily the mummy is not on display (ew).

The Ruins of Quilmes Antiguo

A few hours south of Cafayate, crossing into the province of Tucuman, are the fantastic ruins of the pukara of Quilmes Antiguo.   The city was founded in the ninth century AD, and the Quilmes Indians were some of the strongest resistors to Spanish colonization.

Much of the city has been excavated and restored, particularly the sections on the mountainsides.  

Making our way up to the higher levels was like trying to find our way through an ancient maze, with the final reward being an incredible view of the valley and unexcavated areas of the city below.  There are no massive monuments or temples, just chest-high walls tracing the footprint of a once urban area.  The only sounds to be heard were those of the wind buffeting the mountain, and of distant Italians egging each other on to free climb a massive boulder in the heart of the ruins.  

I've somehow managed to mess up the formatting of this post, but rather than patiently re-upload pictures, I'll just assume that pictures are worth more than a thousand words.  Since my posts are always less than a thousand words, my work here is done.  By the way, the last two pictures are from the grounds of the Pachamama natural history Museum in the nearby town of Amaicha.  The grounds are the work of a local artist (ie, not artifacts).

"I want one real bad..."

These pictures remind me of a time when Emily posted grandpa's goats on craigslist and someone sent her an email saying something along the lines of "Hi, I live in Hayward.  How big of a yard do goats need?  I want one real bad!"

 I'm also reminded of the time that a couple of yuppies (also from craigslist) showed up at Gma & Gpa's in their mini-cooper with a golden lab in the backseat.  They drove away with a struggling baby goat on the wife's lap in the passenger seat.  I still crack myself up with fanciful images of baby goat leaping to freedom through the mini-cooper window after a herculean goat-man-woman-dog struggle on highway 101.

But I digress.  Just a few blocks down from the Porvenir de los Andes Winery, there is a small goat cheese factory that gives tours.  Tours that come with a free wheel of goat cheese!  Which would be great, but is slightly less great when at the end you find out that they don't make soft chevre, but rather some sort of semi-hard variety.  It tasted good, but it was too soft to be a yummy manchego-like cheese, and too hard to be even a feta.  It left me unsatisfied.  But the goats were awesome.

Being springtime, there were LOTS of baby goats. And the only thing cuter than lots of baby goats is lots of baby goats in the same pen as chicks.

Some of the little guys were really friendly, like this one who immediately became my pet.

But it is a cruel, hard world.  Many of the baby goats were male and thus destined to be sold to butcher shops.  And as Pedro commented, "this one looks delicious."