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Epic Epilog: The Attack of the Panoramas

August 19, 2011

This is an epilog (i.e., I was too lazy to finish it before I left).

I’m really going to miss the constant international mix I became accustomed to while abroad, as well as having to use a different language for daily engagements. Case in point, a few days ago, I was sitting in the common room of my residence, where I found a German friend and Brazilian friend watching a soccer match between Germany and Brazil, teasing each other as they watched. Friends and family, don’t be offended if I drift off board in a conversation because you aren’t speaking Spanish or English with a foreign accent.

Please click on the panoramics to see them zoomed.

This was found in a naval museum in El Tigre, a pleasant river town. It’s the Argentina coat of arms:

The Argentines take pride in their smurf-hunting abilities.

Also there was Jacques Cousteau:

20,000 leagues, etc.

Nope, not paint. Ketchup.

I went to visit a good friend of mine in Córdoba, an old, much more pedestrian friendly city. Here are some memories in the form of pixels:

Reminding me of Spain

Taking diligent notes at the Jesuit school.

Weird building. Apparently a club.

God, I've seen a lot of old churches. Oh, sorry God, wasn't talking to you, just a manner of speech.

Does stained glass ever get old? No. No it does not.

Surprise! Went to a museum.

My friend, the devil.

That's funny, I don't remember it being that warped...

My friend (Felipe) took me to a really great restaurant. It was kind of a wine shop first, and restaurant second.

Best Restaurant Argentina 2011, as rated by Porteño Eye Dining Out Guide.

Where the magic happens.

Slave labor/ Sous Chef

There were packs of stray dogs highly interested in the ducks.

Obese trees that need to meet Mr. Atkins.


Given that the Córdoba's founder has been perplexed by his map for some time now, I decided to lend a hand.

We went to a nice feria one night, and wandered into this antique furniture shop, which impressed me by its clutteredness, so I took a picture that wasn’t that good, and probably wouldn’t have included it, except that the guy was really rude to me, saying photos weren’t allowed. Felipe, defending my honor, replied that there wasn’t much to see, anyhow. The shopkeeper’s surly reply probably shouldn’t be printed.

Just to spite him.

I see rainbow potential here.

Coolest book store ever. Click on me.

I’ve continued to be curious about that Quebracho thing. In my last few weeks, it became like a scavenger hunt for clues:

Another clue

I think the E's were a red herring trying to throw me off the trail.

I now know this is a typical puppet style, very common in the ferias.

Creative stensiling. "Your life is a jail. It's time you woke up. Read the Gauchos."

The Water Palace, as they call it

From the Gardel museum, in a former house of his.

Obsession is an understatement for Porteños' adoration of Gardel.

The street on which the museum was located:

My boss was enthralled by my panorama app.

Restaurant Lezama. Exquisitely presented cholesterol.

Then Les Luthier, a very funny musical comedy troupe. I was ecstatic that I understood more than half the jokes. It was really funny. Therefore I recorded half the show:


Mafalda, the dearly beloved satiric cartoon character of Argentina. "Look at this. It's the world, see? You know why this world is so pretty? Because it's a model. The original is a disaster!"

Yet another clue!

Totally white. A graffiti artist's wet dream.

Caught my eye because it is a pedestrian depicted realistically, i.e. scurrying for his life across the street.

One day I emerged from my cave to find a desfile that had something to do with police violence in a nearby town. You could actually see the hammer and sickle shown proudly. This was very shocking for me. My visceral reaction as a well-conditioned God-fearing, American capitalist was to shout profanities at these dirty heathens, but I was able to suppress this powerful urge.

In Argentina, you can actually utter the word "Socialist" like it's possibly a good thing.

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I looked at my ratings recently, and found that the 18-25 zombie demographic was really lagging. Here’s for them:

Braaaaaaaaaains! And intestines. In the grocery store.

Americans and peanut butter doesn't even touch Argentina's obsession with matte.

Teatro Colón is a very famous theater, in which I paid for the privilege to sit. I saw the Buenos Aires Philharmonic Orchestra.

So, will I continue blogging? Hmmmm…Maybe if West Lafayette becomes as exciting as, say, Spain. Oh, what’s that? Your begging me, because I’m so awesome? Well, perhaps I could make an exception. But anyhow, it’s back to banging my head on text books, trying to violently infuse information into my brain.



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  1. I have always wanted to visit that bookstore!

    Cool panos!

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