Goodbye From Me, Argentina

My last day. What to do? Truly, this is such an incredible city that even walking around is a big experience. However, I decided to take a tour into the country. My plane didn´t leave until 9:30 pm, and I had arranged for a late check–out, so I had pretty much all day. No problems. Or so I thought. I booked a tour that was to take six hours. It went to Temaiken, which is a zoological park, kind of like San Diego Wild Animal Park. It was about an hour outside of Buenos Aires, and I thought it would be nice to get out into the country and walk a bit, as I knew I would be spending more than twenty–four hours on airplanes. I checked last night and again this morning with the people at the front desk in the hotel.
“You are sure the tour is only six hours, right? You are sure I will be back by 3 pm?”
“Yes, of course. Do not worry. Six hours maximum. You will have lots of time to get to the airport.”

I had a strange niggling feeling inside me, which I should have trusted and just not gone, but instead, I believed them and was anxiously awaiting my pick–up in the morning. The tour guide was only about fifteen minutes late for the pick up, but then we spent the next hour picking up other passengers, and driving to an area beside the stainless steel flower where some of our passengers got off and transferred to other buses, and other tourists boarded our bus. Once we got to the flower, it was actually pretty interesting as there was some sort of mini gay pride ralley going on.

At the front were folks with a large pink banner stating in English, although I am not sure why, as everyone was speaking Spanish: "Freedom – We Want To Marry". There were TV cameras, people hanging out behind a barrier, some of them in “gay costumes”, many with signs saying in rainbow colours, "Equality Now", "Freedom", things like that. There were many tourists at the flower as well, and music was playing and folks were excited, so it was an energetic event for sure. Then amidst much yelling and organizing, they started the parade, and the leaders marched down the street. There were about fifty of them, and they were very lively, dressed up, rainbow everythings, wigs, signs, clothes, flags, and a big rainbow balloon arc. I think they must have been rehearsing for something because after they had marched about one hundred yards, they stopped. The truck at the end of the parade backed up to the place where he started originally, and the people turned around and went back to where they were, lined up all over again, ready to march yet once mroe. The TV cameras were filming everything.

Well after an hour from the initial start of the tour, we actually started the tour. Our guide was a young Argentinian woman, Mariana, who spoke in both English and Spanish. She explained that there were actually two tours on the bus, and those of us going to Tamaiken (that´s me) will be dropped off, given our tickets, and then picked up again at 5:30 pm.
Wait a minute! 5:30! That means I wouldn´t get back to the hotel until after 7, at least an hour AFTER I have to leave for the airport, and I hadn´t even begun to pack yet!
“Mariana, I was told we would be back by 3 pm. Are you now saying we won´t be?”
” Yes, we never come back that early. We leave the park at 5:30.”
“ But I will miss my plane if I do that.”
“Yes, well, there is nothing I can do. The bus leaves the park at 5:30.”
So I told her we should put our heads together and figure out a solution because I was not about to miss my plane for North America to look at lions and tigers. To make a complicated exchange short, she arranged for Luis, a taxi driver friend, to pick me up at the park at 1:30. Of course, I was terrified that he wouldn´t come, and there I would be, stuck in the middle of nowhere with no way to get back to the city. But it was an unfounded worry, because exactly at 1:30, Luis pulled up and drove me back to the city. And of course, I not only had to pay for the entire tour, most of which I missed, but also for the private taxi ride back to Buenos Aires.

On our way to the park, we drove by the water, and there were literally hundreds of people fishing from bridges, and the road. I didn´t see too many fish, perhaps they kept them in the water until leaving, but there sure were a lot of fishing rods out there. We saw many joggers,, long–distance bike riders, and of course the ubiquitous dog walkers. There is always a lot to see on the streets of Buenos Aires. We drove along a modern big freeway with at least two toll stations, and then finally turned off to get to Temaiken.

Now, the park. As far as zoological parks go, it was lovely. I have very mixed feelings about zoos, and am not even clear why I wanted to go, except I thought it would be nice just to walk among trees and flowers, and in fact, it was. All the enclosures were built out of natural materials, stone, wood, etc and there were no cages or bars or anything at all like that. All the animals had little signs saying if they were endangered species, etc. There was lots of educational material, and young people working at the park gave little expositions about the animals or insects or whatever. This was not a tourist park, but an Argentinian park, so everything was in Spanish, there was no English at all, but that´s okay, I pretty much know my animals anyway. I think I liked watching the flamingos and the meerkats the best of all, especially the latter. When I first got there, I went to the information kiosk and asked how long it took to walk around the park.
“ Oh, four to six hours, more it you go slowly,” the young woman smiled. Luis, the taxi driver was to pick me up in just two hours.

It was wonderful to walk. I just walked deep into the park for one hour and then turned around and followed the “salida” signs until I could find my way out again. At one point I stopped for a quick snack. I ordered the only thing on the menu which I did not understand: a superponcho. I had no idea what that was, but was kind of hoping it might be a hot dog. Luck was with me, I think, as I got served a very long, very skinny, very undercooked weiner. It came with three packets of mayonnaise, one of which had some poor critters feathers accidently glued to the outside.

Once I was back at the hotel, I had one small errand I still needed to do, so ran back out to Avendia Florida, which is really only three blocks away from the hotel. As soon as I turned onto the road, there it was again – anothger tango show in the street, This is the street that is pedestrian only, so there was lots of room for the dancing. I had learned that originally, tango was banned here. It had orginated in the lower–class neighbourhoods, and the upper–class or high society people did not approve of it at all. Originally, only men danced the tango with each other. Women didn´t dance until much later. Tango was especially danced out in the suburbs. Ultimately so many people were “secretly” dancing that in 1912, the high society people organized a big tango event, and it was the first time the tango was danced publicly by the upper classes. After that, the dance was accepted. In 2009, after being lobbied by Argentina and Uruguay, UNESCO declared the tango as a world heritage of humanity, an intangible cultural history.

I had made a stop at Starbucks again on my way back to the hotel. I had begun to get a tad tired, after a week of four hours sleep a night, and needed a hefty caffeine fix. This time when they asked my name I said “Estella”. They got that wrong too, but not the coffee – it was strong and good.

When I first arrived in Buenos Aires, the customs and immigration area was small and dingy and not overly impressive. However the departure terminal more than made up for that. It was huge and glitzy with loads of upscale shopping. It was quite beautiful. And so I left Argentina, flew to Dallas where the plane had a flat tire and we sat on the runway for almost four hours, and then got to Vancouver. I think I walked more in the Vancouver Terminal in two hours than I did a whole week in Argentina! I do not like that airport. But I do like Beunos Aires, and although I was happy to return home, I was very happy to have experienced Buenos Aires and hope that I may return one day. Hasta Luega.

Last Training Day

We met again at 9:30 in the morning to discuss basically new research and new concepts. Assiz showed up again, and Frankie and Mike and I were there, and Dr. Belluscio and the three women: Anna, his daughter, Beatriz the marketer, and Maryelle, the nutritionist. We had a good discussion about lots of research parameters and again, I learned a lot.

So what is the bottom line on HCG? Is it a cure for obesity? No. But it certainly can help control obesity for years and years. Does it reset the hypothalamus? No. But it certainly has a hypothalamic effect, and that is where HCG works. As Dr. Belluscio has said, it has taken humans hundreds of thousands of years to evolve the hypothalamus to what it is now, and it´s not going to change in three weeks.

At one point, we were googling HCG. Three years ago, Dr. Belluscio was the ONLY one with info on the web about HCG. Now there are millions upon millions of hits, and everybody has twenty or thirty years experience. Where they all came from, no one here knows. I still think Dr. Belluscio is the only one with all that experience and everyone else is jumping on the money bandwagon.

I´ve felt this before and I even feel more convinced of it now: HCG should not ever be used without medical supervision.

I think HCG is a very fine way to control weight, provided the patient is compliant and stays on the protocol. The weight loss can be maintained for years, and if, it´s a big if, but if the weight gain should return, the person can always do the protocol again. And again. OR, prevent the weight from returning in the first place. That´s certainly my first choice, and I am going to try to do that from now on.

Around 2ish, everyone had dispersed to do her/his own thing. I decided to go to the mall and walk down Avenida Florida, one of the main Buenos Aires shopping areas. Pacifica Mall borders on Florida. The mall was wonderful – huge, modern, with wonderful paintings on the curved ceilings, replete with Starbucks. One store after another had beautiful leathers, clothes, shoes, books, on and on. And then the streets. They were full of people, walking quickly, shoulder to shoulder. Avendia Florida is a pedestrian only street, with traffic only at the cross streets. There is a large space for people to walk. I was trying to stroll, but the crowd of people was pushing me onward. People were rushing along, talking to each other, or on their cell phones, or to themselves. Buenos Aires is a very vibrant city, full of traffic and people and noise and motion and action. On the mall on Florida were hawkers selling anything from food in restaurants to today´s latest gizmos. There were buskers and beggars, usually women with children. Crosswalks are painted on every street corner, but usually pedestrians and cars alike totally ignore them. They don´t seem to mean anything. I had a lot of fun trying on beautiful leather jackets which I knew full well I couldn´t afford. I did try to buy some shoes, but couldn´t get them in my size. I loved speaking my broken Spanish and being part of the rush of people. On my way home, I stopped at the Starbucks for a dulce de leche frappucino. Only in Argentina. Dulce de leche is a typical Argentinian sweet with milk and caramel. When you order at Starbucks, they ask your name and write it on the cup and when it is ready, they just call your name. The woman had a difficult time with Ruth. Somehow “Bruth” got written on my frappucino, but I correctly identified my drink so all was well. After a few hours, I was starting to get claustrophobic from all the people and the fast pace, plus all the cigarette smoking was bothering me, so I decided to come back to the hotel even though there was still some shopping I wanted to do.

I worked on my notes from the training session for a couple of hours and then Frankie and Rene returned from their outing. We shared our shopping with each other, and then the three of us headed back out to Avenida Florida. In the first block, we came across an outdoor tango show in the street. This place is tango tango tango, for sure. And now it was evening, and all the stores were still open, but there were wall to wall sellers of wares sitting in the middle of the walkway with all their goodies. Of course we shopped just a bit more. We returned to the hotel around 9 pm, still too early for dinner. The two women were exhaused and retired for the evening, but I went back to work for a little bit more and then headed out for dinner.

I decided to go to the same steak restaurant I had gone to a few days ago because the steak had been perfectly cooked, the waiter was great (even though he spoke no English, but he seemed to understand my Spanish) and it was very close to the hotel (about three–quarters of a block away). So there I went. And I once again ordered in espanol and I had a most fabulous incredibly delicious meal. For an appetizer, I had artichokes and shrimp and onions and mushrooms, a main course of a rib eye steak cooked absolutely to perfection (for me that means pretty rare) and for dessert, crepe with ice cream and dulce de lece. Dulce de lece is the very caramel Argentinian thing and as it happens, cararmel is one my most favourite things ever. And the crepe was perfecto. The waiter had definitely remembered me from a few nights ago and couldnt have been nicer. I had a wonderful time, sitting there listeing to the voices speaking Spanish. I left just before midnight, and people were still arriving for dinner. The streets were packed. Maybe because it is a week–end (Friday) there were lots of police and police cars on the street. But everyone seemed very friendly to me, and I wasn´t in the least worried about my safety at all. It was a wonderful evening. And tomorrow, well tomorrow is my last day, Stay tuned to see what I have planned for that.

Another Day, Another Training Session

We started our training at 9:30 in the morning and went straight through until 2 pm. We had barely an hour for a quick lunch, and then reconvened until 7 pm. We were exhausted as we packed in tons of material, but we are having a training session dinner at 9 pm, so everyone retired for two hours before meeting again, freshly showered and properly attired for another night out on the town.

The training was good. Again, I won´t write much about it as it is medical and complex, but I am always available to answer questions about HCG and weight loss. We were joined this afternoon by an anaesthetist from Maryland, Assiz, so now our group is five students. There was much information given. Today alone I took twenty–two pages of notes which I have to transcribe and make some kind of sense out of the scribbles. But once again I did learn loads of great information.

At 9 pm Argentinian time, which was closer to 9:30, we got into a car to drive to Sirop, a lovely restaurant in an old building that used to be a post office I think. At any rate, it was down an alley and quite lovely inside. The food was fabulous, the wine was great and the company wonderful. There were nine of us: Dr Belluscio and his daughter Anna, whom I´m begininning to think runs the whole shebang, and Beatrice, the marketer for the HCG group, and Maryelle, the nutritionist, and we five “students” or participants in the training session. We ate late, and didn´t leave the restaurant until about 12:30 pm. Way past my bedtime, but I had a wonderful time and Dr Daniel Belluscio was such a gracious host.

It was a strange day. Assiz didn´t show up so we were just the four of us again. In the morning, we had the nutritionist and in the afternoon the pharmacist but they choose to give their lectures in Spanish. So we had simulataneous translators, who were both excellent, except the Spanish person spoke loudly, the translator whispered, the headphones kept cutting out, and none of us could understand anything. We kept stopping them and they wanted to try one more time, just one more time please, and it was like a comedy show. Finally, they agreed to have the Spanish person speak Spanish and then the translator speak English and both would try to speak in a normal voice, and we would not use any headphones at all. That worked much better. I think we were all a bit tired today. We finished about 4ish and then we all went to Dr Belluscio´s medical office where he was seeing patients. We put on doctor white coats – I think it was the first time I´ve worn a white coat since I graduated in the 70´s except for when I worked in Israel or China or England. I don´t ever wear one in Canada. The offices were very small, but the entire staff was most gracious and accomodating and we did manage to see some patients and get a feel for his practice here. In Argentina, everybody kisses everybody – on the right cheek. The doctor kisses the patients, the patients kiss the nurse, the nurse kisses the nutritionist and everybody kissed us. I love it. It is a very civilized way to greet people. Men, women, doesn´t matter. Kiss on right cheek, not both. Very nice.

At 8 pm that evening, Frankie, Rene, James, Darryl and I were picked up to go to our tourist tango show. The minivan dropped us off and in we went, to be seated stage side. First we had drinks, and I have to say, I asked Senor Bartender what the best Argentinian drink was and he replied Gancia Batido. Without having a clue what it was, I ordered one. And then another. And then another. It was incredible and one of the best mixed drinks I have EVER tasted! I absolutely loved it. The red wine was pretty good too. But the Gancia was just amazing, so Senor Bartender wrote down for me how to make one and I will try when I get home to replicate that taste if I can. The meal was fine, Argentinianly flavoured, good.

Before the show Senor y Senorita Tango went from table to table in the audience to ask if people wanted to learn tango steps. They would then take a woman or a man or a couple up on the stage, and teach them one, or two or three tango steps, depending upon their capabilities. Senor Tango would dance with the tourist women and Senorita Tanga would dance with the tourist men. They got to our table and all four women ended up dancing and I think we were all three–steppers. All of us did very well and got shown all three different steps. It was very fun dancing with Senor Tango. I loved it. I think we all did.

And then the show. First the musicians: two violins, a bass, a piano and an elderly gentleman with long gray hair on the concertina. Then the singers, one male and one female. And then, at last, the dancers – four or five couples, dancing either all together at one time and/or individually. At times, it looked like an avian mating ritual. At other times, they looked like panthers, jaguars, or bunny rabiits. The dances were playful, serious, sexy and always intense. Really, it was the most intense dancing I´ve ever witnessed. And at times, it looked as though we were watching people, well, women on stilts (very high heels) and young men have sex in almost upright positions. I felt I was intruding to even watch. OMG it was sexy. At times.

Then came Mr. Ukelele Man. Really, he was from Northeast Argentina and he was playing a charango which is an instrument like a lute, but I still called him Mr. Ukelele Man. He had long dark hair flowing to his waist and was totally into the music. He looked liked an Indian hippie. The first two or three songs were great, but after the fourth or fifth, I was happy to see Senor Bolo come up on the stage. He pranced onto the stage carrying a large drum and he danced, stomped his boots and played his drum all together. Muy bueno. Then he put the drum down and brought out the bolos. With one in each hand, he swung them round and round hitting the stage with them in syncopated beats while he danced a kind of flamenco type dance, so his boots and his bolos made the rhythms on the stage. Very cool. And then the singers and then the dancers returned to the stage. The dancers were without question my favourite. I just sat there with my mouth wide open for most of it. And too quickly came the finale. Okay, they sang (in Spanish) “Don´t Cry For Me Argentina” and they waved Argentinian flags, and it was hokey but it was wonderful and we loved the show. I think we all had a great time and came back to our hotel well after 12:30 pm. And of course we have a session early in the morning again. I am not sure how long I can survive on only four hours sleep a night, but so far, I seem to be thriving.

The Real Thing

The HCG Training Session. Meet Dr. Daniel Belluscio. Twenty–nine years ago, he was a young surgeon working with a plastic surgeon. His older colleague had heard about HCG for weight loss and began to use it with their patients. As Dr. Belluscio explained, it made their surgeries so much easier if their patients were not obese. And so it began. He went to Switzerland to study the HCG weight loss protocol for three months and stayed for ten years. He then returned to Argentina where he opened a practice dealing with HCG, and developed oral HCG. The initial protocol developed by Dr Simeons in the 1940s and 50s used injectible HCG. Dr Belluscio has worked with over 6,500 patients and has reviewed another 14,000 patients. He has never seen any negative side effects from this protocol.

He is a very pleasant looking, soft–spoken man, humble, modest, but full of knowledge. Within minutes, I knew I had come to the right place. He probably knows more about HCG than any living person right now. It is a privilege to learn from him.

Our training group is very small and I am delighted. It is wonderful to sit around the table with other physicians and talk “doctor talk”. It´s been a long time for me, and I have truly missed it and am glad to be going back into medicine. We have a very small group. There is Frankie, a female pediatrician from the Baltimore area who has been working with HCG for a short while. She came with Rene, who is a fitness trainer and owner of a Jazzercise facility and the two of them work together with HCG patients. I like them both very much. Then there is Mike, from New Jersey. He describes himself as an “alternative” doctor. And me. And another new doctor is coming today. During the morning, Dr Belluscio had at least three woman at all times sitting around him, bringing him coffee and food, fixing his computer, helping him with translation, etc. The course is in English and Dr Belluscio´s English is good.

During our lunch break, I went exploring again, and stopped at a coffee shop near the hotel for a hamburguesa with cheese (and no bread, of course). I am surprised, and pleasantly pleased, at how few people here speak English. I really believe that when a person is visiting a country, that person should make an attempt to communicate in the language of that country. And so I do. It´s amazing how far a smile will go. But I am now quite confident ordering in a restaurant and paying for my meal, all in Spanish. Besides, it makes for more fun adventures.

The day was long, but good. There is no way I can write here everything I have been learning, and besides, it was fairly medically technical. But I will say this. Dr. Belluscio is the real thing. HCG is the real thing. This method has proven safe now for over half a century, and has been used on many thousands of patients. And I can hardly wait to return home and start my own practice with this.

In the evening, Frankie, Rene, Mike and Frankie´s son James and his friend Darryl and myself all went out for dinner. We were told of a good steak house just three blocks from the hotel and off we went. We talked and drank and ate and had a wonderful evening before returning to the hotel. I then did all my notes from the day´s training, and at too late an hour, fell into bed.

An Afternoon in the Country

Of course, having just had 45 minutes in my room from one tour to the other, and this mornings tour being over half an hour late to pick me up (I was anxiously waiting for them in the lobby), it would only figure that the guide for this afternoon showed up early. Anyway, Gladys and Gustavo the driver picked me up first, naturally, and we then picked up four people from Ecuador, a husband and wife from Quito and two women, and then two more women from Rio de Janero in Brazil. And on the bus everyone introduced each other and once more I am Kah–Nah–Dah. Only one women from Brazil spoke a bit of English as she struggled to tell me her son lived in Calgary, working for an oil and gas company. Gladys decided to say everything in Spanish, English and Portugese, but to tell you the truth, I understood her Spanish the best. Because we were such a small group and were together for five hours, we became quite friendly, and I just chatted in Spanish with everyone the best I could. It was muy fun.

First we drove through Olivo City where we saw the residence of the country´s president, Christina Fernando. She only works in the Pink Palace, but she lives in this residence. There are 23 provinces in Argentina, of which Buenos Aires is the capital. Within the city, there are eleven football stadiums, all of which are privately owned. None belong to the government. What a novel concept. Imagine not having to pay for repairs to BC Stadium all the time!

For a long time we drove down Avendia del Libertador. The street starts in downtown Buenos Aires and is thirty–three kms long. We drove through many different municipalities, and saw large signs across the street saying (in Spanish of course): Don´t drink and drive, Don´t use cell phones while driving, Concentrate on the road, etc etc. We saw gorgeous old ficus trees, some hundreds of years old. They are related to acacia. They are always green, but in December, they have yellow flowers.

In San Isidro, we got off the bus and had forty–five minutes of wander time before we reconvened to board a train. Gladys had explained that later we were going on a boat, and we should go into the supermarket to get a picnic for the boat. With a great deal of care, I picked out, in the supermarket, two perfect apples, two mandarin oranges, some almonds, and some brie cheese and a bottle of water. Such a picnic. However, when I went to the cashier, she confiscated my fruit and almonds, because I had neglected to get them weighed in the produce section. Like I knew I had to do that! So I went and reselected all over again, and found a produce guy to weigh them. All this transpired in Spanish. I returned to the same cashier with my goodies. She looked very surprised. I´m sure she never expected to see me again.

Gladys explained that we were getting on a tren (train) regular and not a tourist one. It only stopped for one minute so if you miss it, tough. Kind of like the bullet train in Japan. Anyway, we boarded the train for Tigre and then Gustavo met us there with the small bus and drove us to the dock to get on a boat. Tigre is about thirty miles north of Buenos Aires.

“Why Tigre?” I asked.
“Two reasons,” Gladys explained. “Firstly, if you fly over the Delta, it is supposed to look like a tiger´s head. Secondly, in the wild here are American Tigers, or Jaguars. There are not many, they are not protected, they are hunted for sport, and they will likely soon die out. However, they were indiginous to this area.” Okay, she didn´t really say indigenous, I put that in, but she meant that in our conversations.

We boarded a boat, more of a launch, really and “sailed”, as Gladys said, around the Parana River Delta, which is really an area of 14,000 kms and contains thousands of islands and little islets, most of which have houses on them. On the mainland is a large market from which supermarket boats leave and service all the houses on the islands. People swim and fish in the water in summer – it is winter here now – although it is not potable. I am not sure how they manage to swim and fish as the colour of the water is pure mud. I guess what one is used to is what one does.

After the boat ride, we drove back to the city, and I was the last one off. They dropped me off in an unfamiliar area. “Don´t get lost.” Gladys smiled. “ Your hotel is on the right.” And she gently pushed me down the road. I had no idea where I was, but I kept on walking and looking right and sure enough, I soon came to the NH Lancaster, where, exhausted, I retired early to get ready for my conference starting tomorrow morning.

Well that rest didn´t last long. I am only here for such a short time, I figured I should go out again this evening. This morning Nestor told me that most Argentinians never eat before 10 pm and even that is considered fairly early. I thought I would try to go out for dinner but it was only just after 9 pm. However, I didn´t want to be out all night as I want to be in good mental shape for the conference tomorrow. I found a steak house not too far from the hotel, and it looked as though about half the tables were full, even though according to Nestor, they shouldn´t have been. I went in, and entirely in Spanish, ordered my delicious steak dinner, replete with wonderful Argentinian red wine. But I must have been a little tired, because I only had one glass and I could definitely feel it. Oh, for the days when I could drink bottles! I guess it´s cheaper this way, anyway. The steak was perfecto, and I might even go back there later this week. In fact, the Spanish was better than the English– the waiter tried to say something to me and I didn´t understand him. He kept repeating it and I just didn´t know what he was saying. Finally I realized he was speaking English and when he switched to Spanish, I understood him immediately. It was a good meal and I was back in my room just before 11 pm. But now for sure I´m going to bed because tomorrow is a big day for all of us.

Exploring Buenos Aires

I am staying at a hotel in Buenos Aires called NH Lancaster. It is the same place where the conference will be so is very convenient. It is a pleasant hotel, based on an old English one. My room is very small but has everything I need to be comfortable. I have to remember to put the key card in the slot by the door so the lights will come on, and in the elevator, I have to remember to press 0 and not 1 to get down to the lobby. But otherwise, I could be anywhere.

I noticed yesterday that there were many convenience stores around, like our 7–11 stores, and these all say “Open 25 Hours”. Now, I know South Americans have a different concept of time, but do they know something we don´t know?

Apropos of that, I was down in the lobby at 9 am this morning, when my tour was supposed to start. At 9:30, in sauntered Nestor the guide. He showed me to a large bus, on which was one other person. Lucas the driver proceded to pick up many people from many hotels, except they were all from Brazil and Peru. And me. Kah-Nah-Dah once more. Nestor was great – he did the tour mostly in Spanish and I just clarified with him in English. Worked for me.

We picked up Benjamin, who proceded to take photos of each person on the bus, and shortly thereafter, got off. “Oh, oh,”, I thought, “I bet we see him again before the tour is over.” Of course I was right.

Buenos Aires has three million people and is the capital of Argentina. The greater Buenos Aires district has nine million people. There are only thirty–six million people in all of Argentina, so a full one–third of the country´s population lives here. There are forty–eight neighbourhoods in the city.

We drove around the center of the city, looking at the large Obelisk that was built to mark Argentina´s independence from Spain. We saw the newly renovated Opera House which holds twenty–five hundred people. I learned that the area I went to yesterday, the Flea Market in San Telmo, is only open on Sundays, so I was lucky indeed to be able to get there.

We went back to the Plaza del Mayo, where I walked yesterday and saw on one side of it, the Casa Rosada (Pink Palace), where the country´s president, Christina Fernando, works, but does not live there. And yes, it was always pink, even before a female president. In the Plaza del Mayo, the mothers of the disappeared, the Desaparecidos, their children whom they lost in the Dirty War of 1976–83, meet every Thursday afternoon. They have been meeting every Thursday afternoon in the Plaza del Mayo for thirty–three years. I hope I can get to see them this Thursday, but I think I will still be in the conference.

I learned about Yerba Mate, the special tea drink of Argentina. Mate cups and silver spoon/straws are everywhere. People here drink at home because they use the same spoon/straws. But everywhere, every market, every tourist store, has little gourds with silver spoon/straws. You put the tea in the gourd, pour in hot water, and slurp. It is a very typical Argentinian thing to do.

At one stop, I saw Lucas talking to a woman selling coffee on the street. I walked over to ask if I could buy coffee. Lucas very kindly bought me a cup. I had a feeling it was not cafe solo (black coffee) from the first taste, but I had to walk down the street and around the corner so Lucas and coffee lady wouldn´t see me toss it. I found out much later that “there is always a little sugar at the bottom of every Argentinian coffee pot”. Thank goodness my hotel really does serve cafe solo.

There are lots of immigrants from Europe in Argentina but a good half of them are from Italy. We saw corrugated metal houses built by the immigrants. And we saw a soccer stadium. Tango, mate, and soccer. That´s Argentina and was about 80% of the Flea Market contents yesterday. The soccer stadium was a small one – just 55,000. There is one that seats almost 70,000, which I actually saw later on another tour.

We drove to Caminito, where the houses are all different bright colours, there are wonderful cobblestones on the roads, the walls all have murals, there are lots of statues, both comical and not, and the focus is on scalping the tourists. Tango dancers who are very sexily dressed wander the street hustling and enticing tourists to take photos with them. A sexy woman will put a hat on a male tourist and pose in a seductive tango position with him. All for a price, of course.

We drove to La Boca – the mouth of the river, Rio de la Plata. Uruguay is across the river and there are ferry boats to Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay. La Boca is the poorest section and one is advised not ever to walk there alone. We saw people living in garbage. It made Victoria´s Pandora Street look like luxury camping. From there we drove to Puerto Madero, the richest section. What a contrast.

Everywhere we went we saw dogs. Yesterday I noticed a large number of dogs out walking with their people. But yesterday was Sunday. Today, Monday, we saw many dog walkers, but in one park in particular, dozens and dozens of dog walkers all together, and each one had eight, ten or twelve dogs. It was fabulous. There are many dogs around here, and every time I see one, I miss my Reenie even more.

Benjamin got back on the bus and had made little packets for everyone. Mine had my face on a tango woman with a dress split up to the wazoo. Now I don´t even own a dress. I do however own a wazoo. I think. And behind the photo were several CDs of the tour and tango music, etc. They could all be mine. For a price. I knew what he was doing the minute he snapped my photo. Did I buy it? Come to my house to see if it is on my bookshelves or not, and you will know.

From the parks we went to the stainless steel flower, which opens every day and closes every night. This flower was created by Buenos Aires artist Eduardo Catalano and it is located in the Plaza de las Naciones Unidas (United Nations Square). The name of the sculpture is Floralis Generica, but it is nicknamed the stainless steel flower. It opens during the day, its petals spanning 32 metres, and then closes at night, when it is only 16 meters. It is 23 meters high and it weights 18 tons. At night when it is closed, it has a red light coming from inside. It is really pretty incredible. While the folks took photos, Nestor, Lucas and I talked about night blooming Cereus. I showed him photos of my Queenie at home, and he told me his mother had one here. In Spanish, I explained to Lucas how Queenie worked, that one night, there would be a flower. It would take an hour for her to open, and all night, she had the most amazing fragrance. Then early in the morning, she was dead. The Floralis Generica keeps opening again every day. It´s an amazing piece of art, just as Queenie and all other night blooming cerii are amazing pieces of nature.

That was pretty much the end of our morning tour. I had less than an hour before my trip to the country so I ran back to the room for a very very short rest.

Buenos Aires, The Tango City

When I first stepped outside the airport this morning in Buenos Aires, I smelled that old familiar South American smell. This is not a pejorative statement. I have found that continents truly do smell differently. China smells like China, Africa like Africa, Europe like Europe, South America like South America. It is not in the least unpleasant, but rather familiar, and individual to each country. I was delighted to learn that there are seat belts here. The last country in which I travelled, Russia, not only didn´t use seatbelts, but cut them out of the cars so people like me couldn´t use them.

The weather here is perfect for me. It is winter and about 14 to 18 degrees centigrade. I walked round all day and evening in jeans and a t–shirt, very comfortable indeed.

For a while, I wasn´t sure if I was gong to be able to blog as everything was en español but it´s okay, yo entiendo and I just kept going. What a great day I´ve had! After two days of travelling, I was ready to walk, and when I arrived at the hotel this morning, I asked the receptionist what I might do on this quiet Sunday morning. She pulled out a map and showed me where to go. I asked if I could walk there and she said it was a bit far. I really needed to stretch after a ten and a half hour flight and two days of travelling, so walked there and back. I was armed with a map and my Spanish phrasebook and felt I could go anywhere. I walked through the Plaza del Mayo – a large square bordered by government buildings and churches. The square was loaded with people and pidgeons, but I continued on my way until I got there.

¨There¨ was a market like I´ve never seen before. When I reached all the stalls and tables on the cobblestone roads, I walked at least fifteen more blocks, all full of stalls. And people. And food. And music. The rastaboys were braiding hair and playing drums. The local Indians were playing pan pipes. There were guitar players, electric harp players, you name it, they made music on it, making lively the stalls of clothes and junk and artwork and food and every posible thing you could imagine including leather table ¨cloters¨(table cloths). I bought a chorizo from a BBQ man, a glass of orange juice (my first in three years) from a beautiful woman squeezing oranges on the street. I walked and walked and was determinined not to buy anything on this, my first day in Argentina but then I got to the art walk and there was one woman´s work I absolutely adored, so I bought a small present for a friend. And on my way back home, I stopped and bought four more larger presents. By then, the artist, her husband and I were great friends and took photos together, and hugged, and chattered away. She knew no English at all, just like most of the people in the market. I thought there would be more English spoken in general, but am very happy habla'ing Español. I babbled away and managed just fine. On every block there were people handing out pieces of paper with menús, and information about shows happening, things like that. A young woman handed me a sheet about a tango show that was to be at two. Well, a los dos. I determined to go to that show, even though I received other tango show pieces of paper. And I´m so glad I did.

I went into the restaurant where the show was to be held. Outside of a chorizo and a glass of orange juice, I hadn´t eaten since the plane so thought I might as well order something with a bit of wine. Now, if you saw garlic prawns on a menú, would you not think of those massive BC suckers? I did, so imagine my surprise when I get teeny weeny tiny shrimpies, like maybe from a can. Oh well, I wasn´t really there for the food. I didn´t eat much, because shortly after they came, someone behind me started smoking. It was as though I was being ambushed. We don´t realize how lucky and spoiled we are, back at home with no smoking.

The tango show – picture this. A restaurant, with a bunch of tables in a semi–circle round a stage. An tired old gay waiter. An emcee, who wants to be a huge star, sings far too much and likely is an owner of the place. He talks only in Spanish, but esta bien. Three excellent musicians, one of whom looked exactly like my step–brother Paul, who clearly hate the singer-emcee-probable owner of the place. And the tourists watching the show. In the middle of Mr. singer-emcee-owner singing a song, there was this terrible racket. ¨Que es eso?¨ (What is that) he asks the musicians and stops singing. Everyone watches a tourist, who turns out to be from Uruguay, try to and initially fail, to turn off some sort of electronic device that is roaring with a bizarre noise and bouncing on the table.

The one and only female dancer (who was always partnered with the same guy) changed clothes at least ten times during the one and a half hour show. I thought I was skinny, running around in my size 6 jeans, but let me tell you, I am positively obese compared to these Argentinian women! They are SO skinny! Like way too skinny. The skinny dancer is dancing, the musicians are playing and laughing, the old gay waiter is scowling, the singer was hogging the mike, it was quite hysterical. The mic was screeching, the singer was getting more and more dramatic, the other single woman tourist at the table across from me is yawning, the Canadian, (me) is taking movies on her iphone, the hispanic folks on the other side of me send back their steaks to the kitchen (which in retrospect is what I should have ordered), and they appalud with gusto, at least the woman does, as often as possible. There is a female singer too, even skinnier than the female tango dancer, who sings her heart out but is way older than she tries to look. I can tell by her feet. This is a show of has–beens but I love it. The Uruguayans are stuffing their faces with bread, one piece after the other, the smoke is thicker, I drink my wine, the music gets faster, and at the end, the singer-emcee-owner asks where people are from. I say Kah – Nah – Dah – I think I am the only North American in the room, there is Italy, Sao Paolo, Chili, lots of Spanish places, but the emcee-singer-owner only spoke Spanish so maybe others didn´t understand him. Everyone applauded when they heard Canada and that was my name from then on: Kah–Nah–Dah. It was a wonderfully tacky experience and the dancing was pretty good too– tacky but incredibly good and very tango–Argentinian.

I was gone well over five hours, and it felt wonderful to walk again after all those days sitting in airports and on planes. The whole way home, I sang the tango song – you all know it, it goes dum dum dum dum, pause, da–dum da–dum dum, pause, dum, dum dum dum, pause, da–dum da–dum dum, dum da, dum dum, da dum da dum da dum da dum, da–dum da dum dum, daaaa–dum.

Tomorrow I have booked two tours– one in the morning, one in the afternoon. My conference starts Tuesday am and goes through Friday evening, with at least some evenings involved. I am only here for six days and don´t want to miss one second of exploring Buenos Aires. This evening I walked in another direction for over an hour. They dine late here, likely not before ten pm. One place advertized dance shows, and they were at 2 am, 4 am, etc. I think it´s a late city. Not for me. It´s 9:30 pm, well before most Argentinians dine, and about my bedtime. Buenos Notches.

In Transit

I hate the Vancouver Airport. I always try not to fly through there whenever possible. My trip was to begin with a flight from Victoria to Seattle, then from Seattle to Dallas, overnight, and then Dallas direct to Buenos Aires. I was very much looking forward to that. So I was a bit disconcerted to discover at the Victoria Airport that my flight had been cancelled and I had been rerouted through Vancouver.

The new flight was delayed. Most flights in BC were delayed because of all the raging forest fires in the province. At any rate, we arrived in Vancouver just 45 minutes before my flight to Vancouver was suposed to leave. There was a hefty ten minute run from the plane to the US International Building.

A diversion: A year ago, I travelled by wheelchair. I looked at all the wheelchairs coming up the tarmac as I deplaned and smiled as I got ready for my sprint to the US Building. You can´t know how great it is to be able to run again. When I have to.

In the US Building, we had a hurry up and wait scenario. There were two waiting rooms where upset people had to sit anxiously awaiting the computer to download images of luggage. It is the stupidest system I have encountered in an airport. After at least fifteen minutes of watching angry travellers, myself included, an agent called me up to a computer screen, pointed to a red suitcase on the screen and asked: ¨Is this yours?¨
¨Yes,¨I answered.
¨Okay, you can go now.¨

I ran to the gate. Thankfully, my plane to Dallas had been delayed by an hour, otherwise I never would have made it on time. But the good news is that particular flight arrived in Dallas at 8:30 pm, while the original one was due to arrive at midnight. So it´s all good. Hope these are the only travel glitches and we´re done with those for the rest of the trip. I´m getting ready now to board the plane for Buenos Aires. Stay tuned....

Fat For Life? Don't Think So.

Before - over 230 pounds After - 125 pounds

I have been fat all my life until a few years ago. I have been on hundreds of diets and have likely lost (and gained back) thousands of pounds. About ten years ago I had resigned myself to being fat for life. Then one morning, about three and a half years ago, I woke up and thought: "If I have to wake up one more morning in this pain and discomfort, I will kill myself.” So I went to my doctor and said: “I have to lose one hundred pounds. What should I do?”
She told me to go on the Atkins diet. I laughed at her.
“No, I’m serious, I really have to lose one hundred pounds. Tell me what to do.”
“I’m sorry, Ruth,” she smiled, “that’s all I can offer you. Go on the Atkins diet.”
So in typical fashion, I read everything I could get my hands on, studied it in great detail, and in a year and a half, lost over eighty pounds. But I still wanted to lose another ten or fifteen pounds, and no matter what I did, I could not get that weight off.
I had been reading with interest the “weight-cure” protocol – using HCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) along with a VLCD (very low calorie diet) to reset ones metabolism. HCG works on the hypothalamus – that part of our brain that controls eating and how our bodies perceive signals relating to food. Frankly, it seemed too good to be true.
“You mean all I have to do is take this stuff, follow the protocol, and the weight will come off?” I asked my friend Susan who had been working with this protocol for several years.
“Yes,” she said. “I also thought it was too good to be true when I first heard about it, but now experience has shown me that it really works.”
So I tried it. In my usual compulsive manner. And I lost (and kept off) those extra fifteen pounds.
Now there are many people in my life whom I love dearly who are seriously obese. If I can help them in any way, it would be such a gift. So I decided to learn as much as I possibly could about HCG, the protocol, the different methods of administering it, everything I could. Susan was very helpful, and taught me a lot. There is a special research facility in Argentina that occasionally offers training sessions in the protocol for physicians. One starts in three days. I leave for Buenos Aires tomorrow morning.
Come along with me while I explore both Argentina and HCG. My ultimate idea is that when I return to Victoria, I will go back into medical practice and work with this protocol. Imagine, losing the weight, eating what you like when you like and keeping the weight off! What a novel idea! It might be too good to be true, but I think it’s real. And I’m going to find out for sure! Starting tomorrow morning.