Futbol, Beaches and Grand Theft Autobus

I have to begin by apologizing for skipping many of my favorite memories of the trip. I simply cannot keep up day to day on my blog, so for those of you I don't mention that are reading, know that I have everything written down and I will revisit these stories as my travels slow and I find work here in South America. On that note, I am skipping the rest of my adventures from Buenos Aires for now including: The Twelve Hour Parade, My Solo Ride on the Midnight Train, My Nights of Tango, Sunsets on the Balcony and many others, so that I can share my love of Rosario with everyone at home. (Given that I am already three cities behind I find this to be my only option.)

So without further adieu. Vamos! On to Rosario!

Given the choice of places to live, here in Argentina, Rosario may take the cake: parks, beaches, camping, architecture, history, beautiful young people, and kindness at every turn. I welcome you to read and fall in love with the city alongside me, and as always, I hope you enjoy.

The city of Rosario is located along the Parana River and the coast of the river is lined with lush, green parks giving you a vantage of the river below until the grassy bluffs descend to meet the river bank. As you stroll the parks along the bluff, there is a peacefulness to the city, that as loud Americans we try not to disrupt, a sometimes difficult task for Andrew and I.  People laze in the parks, some bathing in the sun, and some finding refuge in the shadowy protection given by the trees. As we make our way through the city we pass Che Guavera's old childhood home and are reminded of the history present in the city. Rosario, the 3rd largest city in Argentina, boasting 1.3 million people sometimes lets you forget this fact, as you enjoy the more peaceful parts of the city. It has a small town feel that reminds me of my hometown in Seattle, Washington allowing me to sink in to the feel of the city.

As we make our way to the beach, I again find myself reminded of my hometown. Boats float on the peaceful flowing river, and jet skis buzz by as they splash through the cool water in jubilation. Encountering friends, the passengers park on the beach to share Yerba Mate or a beer with their friends. Windsurfers, and Sailboats catch the cool breeze in their sales as they wisk along the surface of the water, and tanned bodies paddle their canoes along the shore. Ok... so not exactly like Seattle, people are tan here, and the swim wear is a little more to the liking of a young twenty-six-year-old. But hey, close enough.

As you survey the sandy, fresh-water beach it is dotted with the beautiful people of Rosario. (Rosario is well reputed to have the most beautiful women in all of Argentina thanks to the six universities totaling over 80,000 students... and in my opinion the beach and warm weather that accompanies the history-rich city doesn't hurt.) As I dig my feet into the warm sand and sip from my Mate, I lean back and close my eyes, soaking in the rays from the sun.

Looking south to the city center, the backdrop to my seat on the sand seems out of a painting. Tall, white buildings reach into the cloudless, blue sky providing a stark contrast to the greenery of the island that sits across the bay. A buoy floats in the distance marking off the swimming area, and as I take a dip into the cool, sediment filled river, I take in the view, not wanting to forget the moment. After a few laps along the buoy line I return to my friends on the beach. Lazing about for another hour before the sun begins to wain, we prepare to make our departure. Andrew and I pack up our belongings. Cleaning my silver, hand engraved Mate, which glistens brightly in the afternoon sun, we make our way to the bus stop.

Where's the driver?

Hopping on the bus with inappropriate change, the bus driver lets us board without paying.  Soon after, we learn that we are headed in the wrong direction and into one of the shadier parts of town. Horse drawn carts packed full of cardboard pass us, and refuse blocks off some of the streets. As passengers enter they stare at the two gringos knowing full well that we are as lost as we appear to be. Reaching the end of the line, the bus driver kicks the last passenger off the bus leaving only Andrew and I, and as he pulls into the gas station he too gets off. Andrew and I are now the only ones on the still running bus. Laughing we look at each other and wonder... do we drive ourselves home? Did we just get a free party bus? hehe. Deciding against jail time, we opt for a photo shoot instead. Five minutes later the bus driver hops back on to continue our 40 minute tour through the ghetto. Passing ice cream shops with security guards, and gun-wielding teenagers that snap my vision from the window to the front of the bus, we return to center of the city, our bellies full of adventure.

Fun at the museum. hehe.

Returning to the hostel we take a walk to the art museum with our Swiss and Swedish friends. Expecting a Salvador Dali exhibit we find ourselves a day late. Instead we wander around taking ridiculous pictures, we listen to our friend play the grand piano in the center of the museum, and we snap a quick photo of the good times at the museum. Why Dali why? Why did you forsake us? Leaving laughing, we grab some six peso steaks at the local supermercado and return to our hostel to feast... and then out come two Argentines, two Israelis and an Australian with a pelota (soccer ball for those at home). Guess I gotta go play some futbol now, dinner must wait.

Our futbol field under the lights of the monument.

Passing the ball around as we walk, we head to the park... who needs hands. Along the way, a talented 12-year-old, selling roses, shows off his skills with our pelota. As we pass through the monument of the flag, justifiably lit up like the Argentine Flag, Lucas and Lucaas, my Argentine brothers, explain that it commemerates the designing of the Argentine flag by General Manuel Belgrano, an important forefather of the country now buried in the crypt below the monument, and that Rosario is rich with history as it was the first place that the flag was raised in all of Argentina. As we make our way to the park, our youthful rose vendor joins us for a game under the lights of the 70 meter monument that we had climbed for a view just a day before.

Our professional futbol team

We played for three hours under the lights of one of the most important monuments in all of Argentina and at the end, tired, our feet hurting from playing barefoot, we take a minute to relax and take a photo of our makeshift futbol team. Two days later, we would find ourself camping, Andrew, Lucas, Lucaas and I just 50 meters from our futbol field, with a view of the monument visible from the door of our tent, and a bottle of rum to keep us warm. Returning home, we kick the ball around with local street cleaners and passers-by, having an open contest to see who can be first to chip it into the circular trash cans that are on each block of the pedestrian street that lead us home. Finally making it back, we cooked our well priced steaks and laughed and drank into the night with our newfound friends. What a city. What a life...

What an Adventure.