Matador Network's Blog, page 2152

12 idioms only the Irish understand

Photo: Darrell Miller

1- You could skin a cat out there

Cats from Kerry to Donegal live in a constant fear of being skinned alive when the RTE weather announces temperatures dipping to -5 during the night.

The utterance of “Well, you could skin a cat out there, it’s frightfully cold!” from their middle-aged female owners sends a shiver down their spine and serves as a gentle reminder to be thankful they didn’t start out life like a Sphynx cat.

The good news for our feline friends is that 99% of Met Eireann’s weather reports are a crock of shite, so they probably won’t look like those inside-out looking creatures for a while to come.

2- Get the finger out

Spending more than a matter of minutes with an older Irish person has only one guaranteed outcome – they will call you and your generation lazy and useless. You’ll get the “When I was your age I was already…” spiel you’ve heard countless times before.

On top of that you’ve also been told to “get the finger out!” Out of where? You can clearly see my arms are folded as I lean awkwardly on my hurl at the full forward line. Now, what were my opponent and I talking about before we were so rudely interrupted!

3- It cost me an arm and a leg

Irish people love to tell you when they’ve forked out some of their hard-earned Euros. What they fail to tell you is how much it physically pained them to pry open their wallet to do so. At times I feel some of my family would rather pay with a limb than key in their PIN at the debit machine. I’m still waiting for the day my girlfriend gets wheelbarrowed to the door with a pair of designer jeans in tow!

4- Take your point, the goals will come

In terms of the game played, this phrase makes total sense: you should choose to go for the score which offers the easier path. On the larger scale of life I suppose it means to take the easy option every time and never aspire to aim for anything that may be blocked by some sort of obstacle. GAA idioms should really stick to the field of play!

5- You’re taking the piss

Now, we don’t go around stealing urine samples from clinics before you jump to conclusions! Taking the piss is a figurative way of saying you’re joking with someone. Americans are “kidding”, Irish people are “taking the piss”, note the difference!

6- As happy as Larry

The happiest guy in all of Ireland is, and forever will be, some lad named Larry. No one knows the reasoning behind his permanent state of happiness but fair play to him for remaining so optimistic throughout the recent hard times which have hit the country. He must have found a nice market being the only upbeat person in the country since 2008!

7- Away with the fairies

An Irish person’s way of saying another one is a bit mad. The phrase essentially means you’re living in your own land where common sense and rules are figments of the imagination. “Ah don’t mind that lad, sure he’s away with the fairies!” a common rebuttal to the opinion of that lad in your group of friends.

8- On their way out

Only in Ireland would you talk about a person approaching death as you would a person leaving a bar. “How’s Tom doing up at the hospital?” I ask my Dad. “Ah not too well, he’s on his way out!” he responds. The news sinks my heart, although this time no one will be rushing after him to pay his bill at the pub!

9- Running around like a headless chicken

Back to animal brutality we go! One day you’re graduating from Maynooth with a degree in Theology and the next you’re struggling to find a job in Supermac’s. They said the skills I learned would be transferable! A decapitated chicken’s desperate attempt to cling on to its final moments of life encapsulate your struggle finding a job perfectly, no?

10- Nearly never bulled a cow

It’s as close to getting “close, but no cigar” you’re going to get in the Irish countryside. I’m no expert on breeding animals and the terminology associated with it, but this one seems pretty obvious! I guess the further you live from the countryside, the less likely it is that you will ever hear this idiom… but you can’t get that image out of your head can you? So, the next time you nearly do something, try to just do it to save an elderly Irish man using this expression and creeping you out!

11- Not the full shilling

Big deal, we don’t use the old money anymore! We never switched to “not the full Euro” for fear of the currency going the way of Brian Cowen’s reign as Taoiseach! Not the full shilling is used to describe that lad who you think has a few screws loose in their noggin. Your evidence is based solely on hearsay and that never-ending look on his face that screams “psychopathic serial killer”.

12- Throwing a sausage down O’Connell Street

Every town in Ireland has that one girl who has hooked up with more than her fair share of townsmen. On top of that, each town in Ireland also has enough gossipers to colonise a newly-discovered island. Add the two together and you come out with a hideous way of describing the fact that she may have taken one too many Denny’s sausages in her time.

Freedom of speech in the West

Photo: Keno Photography – Kenan Šabanović

The attacks against French newspaper Charlie Hebdo in Paris last week have sparked a worldwide conversation about free speech.

Now the satirical paper is going to print again with its first post-attack edition, and the freedom of expression debate is raging on.

What’s on the cover? You guessed it — a new cartoon of Prophet Muhammad. That’s forbidden in Islam, but Charlie Hebdo and its fast-growing fan base insist the paper has the right to print it.

Some are wondering what that right is all about. Americans know something about their First Amendment. International law also protects freedom of expression and opinion — it’s in the second sentence of the Universal Declaration on Human Rights. In practice, it varies considerably by country, even within Europe.

Here’s a brief explainer on the different legal interpretations of free speech in the United States, Britain and France.

The US has the First Amendment: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press.” What First Amendment protections exist in say France or Britain?



None. The Bill of Rights applies only in the US.

That’s irritating.



Sorry. But both France and Britain are signatories to the European Convention on Human Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which spell out countries’ obligation to protect citizens’ rights to free expression, even of controversial or inflammatory opinions. (The US has signed on to the ICCPR as well.) They have national laws protecting free speech as well.

And citizens here are serious about that freedom. When marchers mobbed the streets across France this weekend, many raising pens toward the sky, they were showing solidarity with the slain staff of Charlie Hebdo. But demonstrators were also taking a stand for the newspaper’s right to express itself through controversial cartoons.

That said, there is a key difference in the laws’ wording. The First Amendment expressly prohibits laws limiting free speech. Britain and France’s laws essentially say that citizens have free speech unless the government legislates otherwise, leaving those countries more room to bar certain types of speech explicitly.

So I can say whatever I want in the US? Great! I am off to leak these documents, then libel some folks, and joke about violence on Twitter.



Hold on. The high bar set by the First Amendment doesn’t mean anything goes. It just means that challengers — including the government — have to work a lot harder to legally restrict speech.

Court cases have identified specific examples when US law supersedes an individual’s right to free expression. The First Amendment does not protect an individual who has shared secrets that could harm national security, for example, or who has falsely defamed another person.

And my Twitter joke?



Just don’t. Here’s an example. In 2010, a disgruntled 28-year-old British passenger in Yorkshire grumbled on Twitter about blowing the airport “sky high” after his flight was canceled. He was arrested by UK anti-terror police and charged with making comments “grossly offensive or of an indecent, obscene or menacing character” under the Communications Act. His conviction was later overturned, but not before he lost his job.

Under British law, the words themselves were a crime. But in the US, authorities have to link the words to punishable offenses to take action, such as those barred under the Homeland Security Act.

Two British twentysomethings found this out in 2012 when they joked on Twitter about being off to “destroy America” before boarding a flight for a US vacation. “Destroy” is British slang for “get really drunk in.” Upon arrival at Los Angeles International Airport they were detained, questioned, and sent back to London immediately as “inadmissible to the United States.”

Moral of the story: No jokes about air travel, anywhere.

What about hate speech?



This issue has come up around Charlie Hebdo as well, a publication whose satiric cartoons took aim at just about every religious figure — particularly the Prophet Muhammad.

The US has no blanket law against hate or racially offensive speech. The target of such speech can pursue redress in a civil or criminal court by claiming its harassment, for example, but the speech itself is usually protected.

In France and Britain, defaming a person’s race, religion or sexual orientation can be a criminal offense resulting in fines or jail time. Often, it’s left to the courts to decide where the line between racism and free expression lies.

In fact, several French Muslim groups sued Charlie Hebdo in 2007, charging that the magazine’s cartoons were racist. French luminaries including then-future presidents Nicolas Sarkozy and Francois Hollande wrote to the court to defend the magazine and France’s tradition of free expression. Then-editor Philippe Val was acquitted, with the courts ruling that the cartoons mocked terrorism and fundamentalism, not Muslims themselves.

I have been libeled and I demand justice! Where should I sue?



Pack your bags for the UK. English and Welsh courts (Scotland and Northern Ireland are separate) are globally famous for their plaintiff-friendly rulings in libel and defamation cases. There, the law assumes that any derogatory statement is false, and it’s up to the defendant to prove otherwise. The opposite is true in the US.

By Corinne Purtill, GlobalPost

This article is syndicated from GlobalPost.

5 rad adventures 2 hours from LA

Photo: Fever Dragon

Los Angeles is a metropolis of millions, but it’s also basecamp for multitudes of rad adventures. Here are my five favorite, go-to spots for outdoor exploration close to LA.

[Note: Click on panorama images and move cursor or swipe with your finger to see different perspectives. You can also zoom in and out.]

1. El Matador State Beach

The entrance to El Matador is small and barely marked — you gotta be on the lookout for this fav of locals, photographers, and the young beer-swilling contingency that probably hails from the nearby Pepperdine University. It’s a quick lefthand turn about six miles past Malibu into a gravel lot with a couple portable toilets and a pay station. They take debit cards, score. The short path switches back, descending to the beach and to the jagged coast and megalithic rock outcroppings and ruddy red sea cliffs. Seagull and cormorant shit has stained white the giant salt encrusted rock tower that sits just off the sheer seafront cliffs.

Down on the beach the wandering soul will find little sea caves, empty coves, and a close-swirling surf washing against the sea cliffs that bar escape. The surf can be calm and the sea caves can be scurried through and miles of beach open up. Or the surf can be high and rough and the entrances to the sea caves fill with foaming, crashing Pacific. If the weather is calm and the tide is low you may venture with caution further North through the sea cave at the end of the park.

Bring a good book and a scooby snack and look for passing dolphins and whales.

Hours from LA: 1

Adventures awaiting: surf, beach lounging, cove exploration, photography

2. Topanga State Park

Topanga State Park is an enormous reptile-green swath of peaks and valleys that extends for miles into the Santa Monica Mountains. It’s the rippling, scrub brush expanse that separates the Pacific Palisades and Ensino. Its network of trails and fire roads is the adventurous Los Angelino’s wet dream. You can access the giant park through a network of trails at various park entrances such as popular Trippet Ranch. If I’m on foot I like to park in or near the Temescal Gateway Park and walk the hillside trails to Skull Rock on the Temescal Ridge Trail and beyond.

If I’m on my bike I like to park near Temescal or Will Rogers or in one of the neighborhoods surrounding the park and find the quickest route to a fire road.

Topanga is big. I would advise you to do some scrolling over the trails on Google maps and see how they wind and fork and enter and exit the park. At one place you can actually camp in Topanga, off the highway 27 / Topanga Canyon Road entrance a primitive eight-person campsite can be accessed by hiking in a mile. Camping 20 minutes from LA — amazing!

When I can’t venture too far from LA but crave miles of empty park and gravel fire roads crunching under my mountain bike tires, Topanga State Park is my destination.

Topanga Park info: http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=629

Hours from LA: 30 min

Adventures awaiting: hiking, biking, camping, exploring

3. Joshua Tree

Everything worth saying about Joshua Tree has already been said. It is an otherworldly, dramatically beautiful — and in the summer — punishingly hot confluence of the Mojave and Colorado Deserts. Driving toward Palm Springs the Joshua trees begin to appear in the Southern California desert until they fill the hot, empty spaces between peaks and valleys and piles of boulders. The namesake flora look like alien creatures frozen in a strange ritual dance. JTree is an easy two (or so) hour drive from LA — if you time it right to escape the crush of traffic before or after the morning commute.

Joshua Tree National Park is 1,234 sq. miles of dry beauty and desert wilderness famous among outdoor enthusiasts, but positively legendary among climbers. Thousands of routes ascend the dusty inselbergs of 100-million-year-old magma that forms the parks seemingly innumerable vistas. There are nine established campgrounds from which many of the park’s trails start.

The sideways slide of the sun’s light shifts the color spectrum of the landscape from white to brown then orange then red then purple then black. Sunsets at JTree are best taken surrounded by the strangely named, humanoid trees. Their spiky bundles of leaves fall into deep shadow and slice the horizon with their jagged silhouettes. The stars, oh jesus christ you don’t get stars like this in Los Angeles…

Visit the Nat Park website for all the details on driving,hiking, camping, and seasonal warnings: http://www.nps.gov/jotr/index.htm

Hours from LA: approx. 2

Adventures awaiting: hiking, camping, climbing, wildlife viewing, photography

4. Channel Islands

Leaving Los Angeles at 7am, it is a little over an drive hour to the Ventura Marina. Park the rig outside of Island Packers, the cruise operation that ferries folks out to the islands and back, and head down to the Harbor Cove Cafe at the end of the drive for breakfast, a coffee or a cup of clam chowder. There are ZERO food options and only a few spots with water from a spigot on the island of my visit so I don’t want to get on the boat hungry. The breakfast burrito delivers the goods — but expect to wait 10 minutes for your food.

When adventuring to the Channel Islands bring a picnic and plenty of water. If you meander the amazing trails, which that is pretty much all there is to do, you will be exposed to the sun much of the time and will need snacks and drink. There is also camping on all five islands on Channel Islands National Park.

Island Packers offers roundtrip excursions, cruises, and whale watching tours to several islands of the Channel Islands. It’s an hour by boat to Santa Cruz Island. Leaving the Ventura Marina, me and my 99 fellow day trippers motor past sea lounging lions on a bobbing red buoy and pods of cresting dolphins and out into the Pacific — to the seemingly remote but extremely accessible islands 20 miles distant.

Arriving at Santa Cruz, we dock at Scorpion Anchorage where several trails converge. Immediately to the left a little cove enjoys a steadily lapping turquoise surf. The rhythmic million-voiced chuckle of pebbles being turned over is irresistible. A squadron of kids belonging to lounging kayakers and spent hikers rollick and splash in the chilly water.

Santa Cruz is barren on the knolls and folds of the hills and shaded and bird-cluttered in the valleys. The big views from the 3.5-mile trail to Smugglers Cove commanded the 96sq miles of the island and the surrounding ocean and the surrounding islands. Far below the last red and yellow oblong slivers of a group of kayakers slips behind a rock outcropping and disappears from view.

Island Packers: http://www.islandpackers.com/index.html

Channel Islands camping: http://www.nps.gov/chis/planyourvisit/camping.htm

Hours from LA: approx. 2

Adventures awaiting: hiking, camping, kayaking, whale watching, photography

5. Griffith Park

One of the biggest metropolitan parks in America, Griffith is the home to the famous HOLLYWOOD sign, many miles of hiking, biking and equestrian trails, a gorgeous art deco observatory, several mountain peaks, at least one wild mountain lion, and a zoo. It is a public space par excellence; in my opinion, the best Los Angeles has to offer.

Griffith can be accessed through numerous parking areas and trails and envelopes mountainous landscapes that separate Hollywood, Glendale and Burbank so depending on where you are coming from Griffith offers different options for adventure. I approach the park from the Hollywood side, the southern side, from the beneath the gleaming edifice of Griffith Observatory that overlooks the city.

My favorite Griffith adventure is an epic mountain bike ride from the Western Ave entrance up past the Observatory and up Mount Hollywood Rd (closed to traffic) over the mountains down into the Glendale area. The main biking route is a restricted access fire road, meaning you will only occasionally see the random maintenance vehicle. Offshoot trails range from wide, well-packed paths to hard-going coyote trails.

Speaking of coyotes, if you manage not to crash around like a baboon in heat you will probably see a few of these tawny grey, sneaky citizens of the Santa Monica mountains. At sunset as the park descends into darkness, the yips and cries of the too-near coyotes echo through the park and tickle the tender wee hairs on the back of hiker’s necks. Beside coyotes, I routinely see by the dozens pinwheeling in the thermals and red tail hawks soaring higher still. Barn owls do their best to seldom be seen as do the shy deer that pick their way cautiously on the scrubby slopes.

Aside from the galvanizing effect of nature in such a densely populated urban area and the abundance of empty trails and warm breezes, the view of Los Angeles cannot be beat. At night the cityscape shifts in a mesmeric shimmer of electricity and glass. On the 4th of July there is no better place to view the light show.

For the most expansive view, but not the least crowded, walk from the Observatory to the top of Mount Hollywood and take in the panorama that includes the Angeles National Forest, the Pacific Ocean and everything.

Hours from LA: n/a

Adventures awaiting: hiking, biking, Griffith Observatory, horseback riding, wildlife viewing, Hollywood sign

What Burners carry with them [vid]

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WE (the What Took You So Long? film team) headed to Black Rock City late September last year as “Burner Virgins” to attend one of the most famous annual events of our lifetimes in the desert of Nevada. Burning Man is a temporary pop-up city that has grown into 70,000 people living on participation and giving, creating a unique culture and a whole new world.

One of the most pressing questions on the playa is: What are you carrying with you when…

you need to survive in the desert

you’re creating your own adventure

you don’t know when you will go back home to your camp

We linked up with the Profiles in Dust team to collaborate on video documentation, which led us to think of this filming idea while out on the playa.

Pre-sale registration for this year’s event kicks off Jan 14, 2015. Individual sale registration starts Feb 18. More details here.

Why so many people travel solo

Photo: SkyDivedParcel

“Happiness is only real when shared,” was found carved into the bus in Alaska where Christopher McCandless spent his final days. After he graduated from college, he rid himself of his belongings, burned his money, and set off, alone, to discover the world. After many great adventures and sullen disappointments, McCandless’s moment of lucidity comes, ironically, as he is about to die. The same thing he had been running from was exactly what would have brought him happiness: the company of others.

Many would agree with the moral of Into the Wild’s story. What is a magical sunset without your significant other? What is the point of scaling a mountain when you have no one to turn to at the top in victory? Why would you visit exotic lands if no one you knew could share your happiness and excitement?

Despite humans’ strong inclination to stick by their family and friends, more and more people are traveling alone nowadays. It has many benefits that bring a deeper meaning to travel, and to life itself. A good majority of travel bloggers and writers I know prefer to go it alone; it is no longer taboo. Why is this?

Do what you want

The first, and most obvious, reason to travel alone is that you can do whatever you want. Maybe this seems selfish, but sacrificing where you want to go and what you want to see while abroad is travel blasphemy. You are on your own schedule, can stay at certain locations for whatever time period you desire, and do whatever activities strike your fancy. Not going to a museum because two of the four people you are traveling with don’t want to go? You’ll have none of this while traveling alone. You are in control of your itinerary and have no one to report to.

Be yourself…or not

Similarly, while you are traveling alone, you can be yourself. Or, you can be your alter-ego; it’s up to you. In the book The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz discusses how all of us are conditioned by society and culture to behave, think, and be a certain way. When we travel alone, there is no one there who knows you and therefore insists you be who you are “supposed” to be.

You can remove yourself from all expectations, live in the moment, discover new lands, and possibly find out more about yourself than you thought existed. Solo travel tests your limits, puts you in situations that you ordinarily wouldn’t encounter, and pushes you to realize your potential in many ways.

Photos clockwise from bottom left: Giuseppe Milo, Christina Leigh Morgan, M Trombone, Samuel Tristán

Solo travel is beautiful journey of conquering your fears, exploring a different country, learning to accept solitude, and quite possibly getting to know the truest version of yourself to date. While on the road on my own, I find that I gain a clarity of mind that is almost impossible to obtain while leading a mundane life of routine. You learn to appreciate your surroundings, adapt to differing elements, interact with others, and focus on what is important in that moment. You are allowed to meditate on life and remove yourself from pointless chatter.

Deep immersion

When traveling alone, the opportunity to really immerse yourself in most cultures is greater than when you travel with others. This is for two reasons: One, people are more likely to reach out to you when you are on your own. You are less intimidating when by yourself, and people quite possibly feel sorry for you, thereby opening up to you.

I firmly believe in the kindness of strangers — that people want to help, that no one wants to see another human struggling. This is not to say that you’ll immerse yourself in another culture by means of pity. It simply means that many locals will be eager to give you directions, practice their English with you, feed you, and even open their homes to you. More often than not, locals are just as curious about you as you are about them.

The second reason why you can more successfully immerse yourself in a culture while traveling alone is that you are able to put everything you consider normal aside. Reminders of your home and culture, which are inevitable when traveling with family or friends, vanish. You are able to dive into a new way of life with a completely open mind, allowing you to soak in the food, language, customs, and behavior on a profound level. There is nothing holding you back from learning about this new culture and beginning to understand it from a local’s point of view.

You are not alone, actually

Lastly, traveling alone will make you discover that, ultimately, you are never alone. You are not the only person in the world who is brave enough to hop on a plane to discover another country that your inner circle may not even have heard of. There are many people from all over the world who are expats, relentless travelers, and world citizens.

As Pico Iyer mentioned in his TED Talk, “Where is Home?” there is a “nomadic nation” growing within the world. People no longer feel compelled to be “from” just one place; many consider the road their home. And therefore, solo travel exposes you to a wealth of people coming from one place and heading to another. They are seemingly neither here nor there, and the conversations you will have these international people will certainly broaden your perspective. Some may be forgettable, but others you will immediately bond with, potentially creating lasting friendships.

These are the many reasons why so many people opt to travel solo nowadays. This is not to say that there are no dangers involved, but rewards don’t come without risk. Traveling alone has greatly changed the person I am, and it was one of the best uncertainties I’ve ever embraced. And so, while I greatly identified with Chris McCandless, and I do believe in the comfort of others, there is a different sort of happiness that you discover when you travel alone. It is a happiness filled with confidence, acceptance, and knowing that, no matter what and no matter where, you can rely on yourself.

This article originally appeared on Travel Pulse and is republished here with permission.

Buenos Aires: Don't call it Paris

Photo: korpisto

WHEN I first came to Buenos Aires, I played a particular conversational card when (especially older) porteños asked what I thought of their wonder city.

I wanted to say something complimentary and simple, enough to earn a smile, but not so much that my rudimentary castellano might trip me up first. And so, lo and behold, out came the favorite line of travel agencies and second-rate tour books: “It’s the Paris of South America!” This happened at least five times in my first two weeks, and it worked every time. Eyes lit up, smiles broadened and a proud “Ah, siiiiiii!” bellowed from the heart of each porteño. But these moments were never without feelings of guilt. Though it was an easy way to bring a smile to the face of every porteño I met, it did have the one problem of being untrue.

Because Buenos Aires is not Paris.

Somewhere along the way, Paris became the heavyweight champion in the culture department, and sometime a little bit later, Buenos Aires found out about it. The Argentine culture was literally founded on a fondness for the French, with Sarmiento’s French-filled and kind of racist “Facundo” setting the Franco-focus for the city’s early elites. But even with time, this culture boner refused to die, extending well into the time Julio Cortázar sent Oliviera to Paris in “Rayuela.” Today, this French cultural hangover survives on Paris-themed ‘AY Not Dead’ T-shirts and among those who refuse to let go of the kinda-sorta economic and historical ties Buenos Aires once held with Europe.

But once you see Buenos Aires with an eye a smidge more critical than that of an in-flight magazine, you realize how the comparison is not only incorrect, but also a massive under-sell — Buenos Aires is not Paris. It’s in fact much, much more.

Paris is just one city, but Buenos Aires is what happens when everyone is invited to the party — the Fernet is from Italy; the teatime is from England, and the empanadas, beer, and wine are all homemade. Porteños were flooding this city with new things, thoughts, and culture long before the buzzwords of “cosmopolitanism” and “globalization” entered the minds of city planners. Buenos Aires is the only city that can have streets seeming exactly like London, Los Angeles, and Latin America all in the same barrio, and more importantly, streets that are uniquely our own (and not only because they are clogged with colectivos.)

You know you’re on a Buenos Aires street when it’s lined with French architecture built with British material housing American stores, but you’re too enthralled by all the various characters to notice. In one walk to my local market, I bore witness to a young man’s shouts of “Andrea!” as he chased down his distraught lover, an old woman buying herself a bouquet of tulips because she can, and a group of children sitting on a sidewalk, playing with a sack of limes. Why were they playing with a sack of limes, you ask? The answer is the same for all inexplicable happenings in our streets: this is Buenos Aires, who are you to tell them they can’t play with a sack of limes?

We certainly know the economic history of Argentina is nothing if not unique. But despite the distinct chaos that is the Argentine economy, Buenos Aires refuses to call it quits. This city has seen it all, yet has somehow never allowed its passions to harden into cynicism. Through it all, Buenos Aires wears its heart on its sleeve, passion and opinion front and center, marching in the street or dancing in the boliches, or neither, if that’s what your into. And if it is neither you’re into, there is certainly something here to suit your tastes, and even if there isn’t, Buenos Aires welcomes you to build your own niche.

In an attempt to explore the music offerings of Buenos Aires one weekend, I went from a hip-hop club to an indie rock show to a jazz club to La Bomba de Tiempo — all four bound together by the common element of feverish fun and sincerity, as if each one truly believed it was their genre that represented the city. People here never run out of new things to do or the energy with which to do them — whether that be partying or embarking on a new entrepreneurial project. Even when the economic forecasts look dim, the intrepid spirit of Buenos Aires has never been extinguished, bringing new meaning to the phrase: “Turn down for what?” (Someone show Lil Jon Buenos Aires). This may be the most distinct quality of Buenos Aires — it’s very much alive. While other cities may have settled into given identities and expectation, Buenos Aires has never been so easily pinned down, always climbing, falling and redefining, mystifying onlookers and energizing those who fell in love with this city. No one can quite define what Buenos Aires is — it’s all at once so many different influences and like nothing else before.

I like to think that this keeps us young. The morphing mystery that is Buenos Aires keeps us on our feet — once a city has defined itself, quickly its pride can sour into snobbery, and its unique elements harden into routine. In always having something new to try, events and ideas in Buenos Aires never develop the air of haughtiness behind those of many old Western cities; where people go to the same places to see the same people because that is what is considered the culture — we do things here in Buenos Aires because they are fun as hell and because we want to.

This truth made itself known to me as I exited a swanky Palermo nightclub one summer evening to a growing dance party on the sidewalk. As the multitude of well-dressed patrons spilled out onto the humid street, they gravitated to the stereo of unknown origin, dancing and clapping along. Without a pause for self-consciousness, everyone began to have as much fun as our $100 pesos had bought us inside.

Buenos Aires is a city where you’re just as likely to be struck by art hung in the MALBA as sprayed under a bridge, where some of the best tango is performed for coins in Plaza Dorrego, where the tastiest licuados aren’t sold by some corporate machine, but by two Venezuelan expats who wanted to move to Buenos Aires and open a smoothie shop, so that’s what they did. As I write this from a Belgrano Starbucks, a group of school children are rearranging all the furniture to accommodate their gathering of young gusto — café sophistication and corporate sensibilities of furniture feng shui be damned.

Simply put, it’s a city with more to do than anywhere in the Americas, but gives less of a shit than any city in Europe.

OK, that may be a bit of a generalization. But the point is, this ‘is-it-Europe-is-it-Latin-America’ identity crisis (that has, by the way, earned us zero friends) must come to an end. Historically, economically, and demographically, Buenos Aires is an incomparable city, and though there are those who will try to throw this city’s identity under the shadow of another, we should revel in the ambiguity, take pride in the uniqueness, and refuse to be compared.

Because it simply cannot be done. Buenos Aires is like Buenos Aires, nada mas. And the city’s pride should stem from that uniqueness — not from Paris-themed niceties or travel book taglines.

So I call an end to such Franco-flattery and false com-PARIS-ons, and ask the guidebooks and in-flight magazines to use a more appropriate tagline: “Buenos Aires — it’s the Buenos Aires of South America!”

This article was originally published on The Bubble, and it has been re-posted here with permission.

10 British idioms that Americans won’t understand

Photo: f_lynx

1. I’ve got the hump

Feeling blue and grumpy? Then in England you have got the hump. Usually it refers to feeling grumpy for no real reason, which is a common occurrence on a grey day in the UK. But do be careful with the word “hump,” because to hump someone means to have a bit of “How’s ya father?” By which we obviously mean to have sex…Is that all clear?

2. What a cock up!

Don’t worry Americans, there is no cock going up anything here. In fact, this is a pretty innocuous British way of saying the something got messed up.

Example: We went to the theatre and all the actors forgot their lines and the orchestra played the wrong songs. What a cock up!

3. Going up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire

Feeling tired? Well, head up that wooden hill (the stairs) to Bedfordshire (bed). Bedfordshire is a county (like a state but much smaller) of England, so it is just word play…simple, right?

4. I just went arse over tit

You know when you fall over really badly? Maybe you tumble down the stairs or fall over revealing your underwear to the world. Well, in England you went arse over tit!

5. I’ve got to go see a man about a dog

Need to take care of some business and don’t necessarily want to share all the details? Well then you can say you are going to see a man about a dog and no one will ask any more.

6. Let’s have a butcher’s

A well-used piece of Cockney rhyming slang (a way of speaking using rhyming words, developed in the East End of London) that has been shortened for everyday use. “Let’s have a butcher’s” is short for “Let’s have a butcher’s hook,” which means a ‘look.’ See what we did there? So if someone has something new or interesting to show you, you would ask for a “butcher’s.”

Example: “Let’s have a butcher’s at your new dress.”

7. I’m off to spend a penny

My American friends tell me that saying “I’m going to the toilet” feels pretty explicit to them, like I might as well tell them exactly what I’ll be doing in there. So maybe they would prefer I said that I was off to spend a penny, which literally means I am going for a wee…or as you would say in the US, a pee.

8. Sweet Fanny Adams

Sweet Fanny Adams basically means ‘nothing’ and is a much more polite version of Sweet F**k All, which means the same thing. The Fanny Adams version can be used in polite company, even with your granny.

Example

“What did your boyfriend get you for your birthday?”

“Sweet Fanny Adams…can you believe it?”

9. He’s a bit dishy

This is a common way to describe a good-looking guy. Maybe used a little more in older generations, but I have certainly heard it pass my lips a few times.

10. Going up the apples and pears

Here’s another bit of Cockney rhyming slang for you: ‘Apples and Pears’ rhymes with ‘stairs’ and that is exactly what it means.

Example:

“Where’s the toilet”

“It’s just at the top of the apples and pears”

How travel has made me a better mom

Photo: Adam Jackson

My kids see the importance of pursuing their passion.

Miserable, frustrated, unfulfilled moms are definitely not the best role models for their kiddos.

Since my own childhood, I have been drawn almost magnetically to travel, yet I grew up in a family where travel was seen as a luxury for the privileged, and certainly not as a responsible option for a full-time lifestyle. Fast forward one divorce and a few years later, I took a leap of faith, left suburbia behind, followed my heart, and I am now a full-time travel writer living in the Andes of Patagonia who gets to take my kids with me on many adventure-travel assignments all over the world.

My kids see me tapped into my passion, now full of life, a mom who looks forward to every new day. They see me living a life authentic to my interests, one that makes me feel alive, and they know I will not ever again settle for anything less. They also know that I will not accept less for them. Whether their passion is painting or archaeology, skiing or journalism, my traveling has given my kids a solid example of how it is possible, necessary, and expected at any stage of life to pursue their own passion with a vengeance.

Travel helps me raise open-minded, tolerant children who aren’t geographically stupid.

In my experience, US kids in general are not exactly known for their impressive geography skills. Most have never been outside of the US, and all too many couldn’t place South Africa or Peru on a map if their life depended on it. Also, it is my opinion that kids are born naturally curious and open, yet parents who raise their kids in a bubble soon end up with children who learn to fear anyone who isn’t just like them and their clone neighbors.

Other countries and cultures are relevant and vivid to my children. When I go on assignment to Costa Rica, it gives us a great opportunity to talk about where it is, what the culture is like, and how the country is politically and economically. My kids will always remember that Costa Rica has both a big coffee industry and a focus on organic agriculture because I brought home about 25 bags of organic coffee from my last trip. It becomes memorable to them geographically that Uruguay is on the coast when we spent time together learning to surf there. When my kids plant in our garden quinoa and corn seeds gifted to them by an indigenous woman in Bolivia, Bolivian food culture becomes incredibly relevant and not just a quiz question in social studies class in school.

Traveling expands their world and what they are exposed to. The more they walk the earth, the more people they will meet – many of different races, religions, sexual orientation, and traditions. Travel has helped my kids see themselves not just as “American’ or “white” or “middle class,’ but as world citizens, walking just one of many possible paths in life, and has helped to give them the ability to interact with anyone, anywhere, with a curious and open mind.

Jumping out of our comfort zone together has brought us closer.

There’s nothing like ending up in a shanty town of the Amazon with two lost bank cards, a grand total of three pesos left, and no way to call home or get online, to make you get creative and quickly work together as a team. My kids and I have dealt with being temporarily homeless in Argentina, having our dog shot point blank by a hardcore gaucho, and we’ve stood in the pouring rain for hours as we’ve waited for hitchhiking rides together. We’ve been pet like animals simply for having light hair, and we’ve been at dinners together where we don’t speak a word of the language everyone else speaks. We’ve crashed, cuddled up, on flea-ridden couches.

We are the Browns, and that’s how we have consciously decided to roll — full on, open-hearted, and open-minded into whatever crazy situation life presents us with.

In the end, we laugh. We have stories. We realize that no situation that we end up in is the end of the world. We know that together we can handle anything, and that we always have the choice to turn the ‘bad’ into nothing more than part of a grand adventure.

Travel makes me supportive of more possibilities for my kids.

When I was raising my kids in white, rich suburbia, it was all too easy to get dragged into the idea that they should turn 18, go to a reputable college that would wipe out my savings, get a good job, marry well, then have kids (one boy, one girl — Tyler and Madison, or some equally socially acceptable names).

Then I traveled. I realize that the world is really big and full of infinite possibilities, some of which are way cooler than the study-work-marry-procreate-die scenario. I realize that my kids can learn so much on the road, and if they want to skip traditional university for a few years backpacking on the road, so be it. I will be their biggest cheerleader. If they instead want to start a surf shop in Ecuador or work with an heirloom seed bank in Chile or learn acupuncture in China, they will have the contacts to do so. And if they want to do the traditional college-work route, at least I can relax knowing that through our travels they have learned to question and to observe, and should have the presence of mind to know if their souls are being sucked or if they are actually on the right path for themselves.

Traveling has made me more appreciative of my kids’ company.

While my kids will grow up to do whatever they want to do, I expect that in a few short years they just might be strewn all over the world. My travels have shown them that the entire world awaits them if they want, and I think that their spirits are too big to be contained, even by our current home of wild Patagonia. My son currently has aspirations to be a mountain guide in Alaska or Antarctica. My eldest daughter I can envision being the powerful CEO of her own clothing design company in Milan or Paris or London. And my middle daughter will probably run away with the circus in Romania, accompanied by her troupe of mangy street animals she rescued along the way.

So the fact that we are all under the same roof for now is most likely a temporary luxury. I know that I need to appreciate every short-lived moment we have of eating heart- or dragon-shaped pancakes in the morning together. Someday soon it might seem like a miracle if we can arrange to share one meal a year under the same roof. I love it that they still get excited when we go on beach trips together, because I know full well that one day I might get replaced by some hot surfer boyfriend or free-spirited kayaker girlfriend who they would prefer to travel with. For now, I enjoy what I can get, because I don’t know what tomorrow will bring; I trust that I have raised spunky and curious kids who will leave the house with a fierce independence and self-confidence to go explore the world, not needing mommy at every turn.

Traveling gives me more energy to be a more present mom.

To all of you saintly moms out there who wake up with an effortless Colgate smile, jumping out of bed to prepare a huge, time-consuming breakfast for grateful children all before you take time for your own cup of coffee, who actually enjoy putting in 400 miles a week in the minivan between play dates, soccer games, and piano lessons, all while joyfully listening to at high volume whatever teeny-bopper popstar crap is the new big thing on the radio: I am not you. You fascinate me, you kind of scare me a little, but one thing I do know is that we are not cut from the same cloth.

From time to time, I get burned out by 24-7 mommyhood. I can just imagine some of the haughty and self-righteous comments from ‘supermoms’ I will receive for actually writing that sentence. I love my kids with all my heart, to the moon and back, but, damn, sometimes it’s best for all of us if I get a little break. A few days mountain climbing is all it takes for me to come rushing home, wanting nothing more out of life once again than to snuggle my kids and watch some horridly mindless movie in bed together eating popcorn, with buttery kid hands always somehow getting rubbed onto my down comforter. And I love it, because I realize that no matter how many mind-blowingly amazing places around the world I visit, nothing will ever beat home and kid snuggles.

On the trail of ancient civilizations in Northern Peru

Photo: Fundación Afi

NORTHERN PERU was home to advanced cultures before the Incas moved in and certainly well before the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors. By the time of Christ, the Chavín and the Cupisnique had already passed their mantle to the Recuay, Moche, and Cajamarca, who had faded from memory when the Sicán, Chimú, and Chachapoyas people fought and were conquered by the Incas in the 1450s.

They all left their mark, and dozens of ruins are spread throughout northern Peru. Despite their historical importance, the following sites are nearly empty of tourists.

Chavín de Huántar (near Huaraz)

Photo: Christopher Muhs

One of Peru’s oldest ruins, Chavín de Huántar was the center of Chavín religious life (1000BC-200BC). The temple’s passageways have been buried by landslides to form an underground labyrinth of narrow tunnels. At their center is a sculpture of the supreme feline deity known as the Lanzón.

Many anthropomorphic carvings found at the site are now on display in the Ancash Archeological Museum in Huaraz (Avenida Luzuriaga #762), but you’ll still find whimsical heads along the temple walls.

You can reach Chavín de Huántar by bus from Huaraz, or explore the Cordillera Blanca in a three-day hike from Olleros that follows a pre-Inca stone road beneath glacier-covered peaks through several traditional villages. (Galaxia Expeditions is recommended.)

Huaca de la Luna and Chan Chan (Trujillo)

Chan Chan ruins. Photo: Carlos Adampol Galindo

In Trujillo, the Moche culture (50AD-800AD) built the Huacas de la Luna y del Sol (Temples of the Moon and Sun) as their religious and administrative centers. Only the Huaca de la Luna is open for tours.

The ceremonial plaza on top of the adobe pyramid was filled in and rebuilt every few generations, and archeologists have uncovered three earlier layers, each with colorfully painted warriors, spiders, snakes, and differing interpretations of the Moche’s octopus-inspired destroyer god.

The Chimú culture (1100AD-1450AD) built Chan Chan a few kilometers up the coast. The walls of the world’s largest adobe city have been melted by the rains of periodic El Niño storms, and what was once home to 30,000 people is now a mass of crumbling hills cut through by a major road.

Several of the buildings have been preserved by the drifting sands, including the palace of Nik An and its intricate adobe carvings: fish, nets, and pelicans that tell of the Chimú reliance on the sea.

Cumbe Mayo (Cajamarca)

Photo: Jorge Gobbi

In the Andes, the Cajamarca culture (200AD-800AD) built networks of stone roads throughout the mountains, as well as the extensive system of aqueducts known as Cumbe Mayo (“Thin Rivers” in Quechua).

The porous volcanic rock of the mountains stored water in the rainy season and distributed it in the dry season, so water flowed year-round in the channels that were cut nearly 8 kilometers down to the valley. They vary in width and take advantage of 90-degree zigzags to control the force of the current and prevent erosion.

Surrounding Cumbe Mayo is the stone forest “Los Frailones,” so named because the stones — some over 20 meters tall — have been eroded and fractured by wind and rain to take on forms resembling hooded monks (frailes).

To get here, take a day tour from Cajamarca, or go on an overnight hike and camp under the stars where the ancient Cajamarca people worshipped the water that gave them life (VIP Tours is recommended).

More about Peru: 9 ways to outdo the guidebooks in Peru


Laguna de los Condores (Leymebamba)

From Cajamarca, take the unpaved 253km road that winds over steep Andean passes, carving across dry desert cliffs on its way to the cloud forests that were once the homeland of the Chachapoyas people (800AD-1450AD).

Most buses from Cajamarca only go as far as Celendín, so best to book on a Movil Tours Chachapoyas-bound bus to Leymebamba.

In 1996 a group of farmers discovered a row of stone mausoleums high on a cliff above the Laguna de los Condores, with more than 200 mummies entombed inside.

Today the mummies can be seen in the Museo Leymebamba, but travelers can also take a three-day hike through the cloud forest to visit the mausoleums and the nearby ancient settlement of Llaqtacocha. Ask at the museum to be connected with a local guide, or book a tour from Chachapoyas.

Kuelap (Chachapoyas)

Photo: Salta Conmigo

Chachapoyas is the sleepy capital of the Amazonas region and the best base for exploring the ruins of the Chachapoyas culture. The most famous is Kuelap, an ancient fortress built on a crag so that its towering 20-meter limestone walls seem part of the cliff face.

Though most of the houses were demolished by the Spanish in the 16th century, over 400 of the characteristic circular foundation platforms remain, decorated with bromeliads and orchids.

Visit the site on a guided day trip, or take a 4-day trek that follows anciently paved roads through the cloud forest to Kuelap and other ruins, including the sarcophagi of Karajia and the settlement of Gran Vilaya. (Turismo Explorers is recommended.)

Sipán, Túcume, and Batan Grande (Chiclayo)

Chiclayo was home to the Moche (50AD-800AD), Sicán (700AD-1370AD), and Chimú (1100AD-1450AD) cultures, who left massive adobe pyramids and tombs stuffed with ceramics, precious stones, and gold artifacts.

Though many of the sites have been looted over the years, findings like the tomb of the Lord of Sipán shed light on the customs of these ancient civilizations. Likewise, the nearby Túcume and Batan Grande pyramids have been devastated by El Niño rains, but excavations continue to yield new information.

These crumbling adobe ruins can start to blur together, but the area’s many museums, including the Sicán National Museum, the Bruning National Archaeological Museum, and the Royal Tombs of Sipán Museum, help you sort them out.

This article was originally published on December 16th, 2009.

How to piss off someone from Indiana

Photo: Sean Molin Photography

1. Believe that the KKK was formed here and that we’re all racists.

You’re imagining us spitting a large wad of tobackey out of our mouths and raising our rebel flags while riding evil-looking horses. Or something like that. I’ve heard this since I was young, and it has always pissed me off. My hometown is New Palestine, and our school mascot was The Dragons. The name supposedly came from the Red Dragon. You know — the leader of the KKK. The fact is, yes, there was a large KKK presence in Indiana years ago and there still is (to a lesser degree) to this day. But the vast majority of Hoosiers have no ties to the group and see it as a scar upon their state’s history. Another misconception — that the group was formed here — is not true at all. It formed in 1865 in Pulaski, Tennessee.

2. Use “Naptown” as a derogatory term.

I’ve heard way too many people claim, “Indianapolis is called Naptown because you’re behind on the times.” Anyone familiar with Indy’s history knows this term is actually tied to the 1930s jazz scene of the Circle City, one of the first and largest jazz scenes outside of New Orleans. IndiaNAPolis was deemed Naptown as a “hip” nickname for the city where jazz greats such as J.J. Johnson, David Baker, and Wes Montgomery were creating music.

Today, we use it as a term of endearment for the ever-growing town we love and live in. So many awesome events take place in this state every year: The Bean Blossom Bluegrass Festival (the longest-running bluegrass festival in the world), The Indiana State Fair (since 1852), and in keeping with our jazz history, the Indy Jazz Fest, which runs for 10 days every summer. So welcome to Naptown!

3. “Isn’t it just a bunch of cornfields?”

No. Don’t get me started with this. Yes, there are cornfields. But there are also top-notch museums (the largest children’s museum in the world), historic monuments (the largest number in any US city outside of DC), remarkable breweries (Three Floyds in Munster has been voted the number one brewery worldwide more than once), and mouth-watering restaurants (Forbes rated St. Elmo’s one of “10 great classic restaurants well worth visiting”).

If you’re an outdoor enthusiast, we have 24 state parks with over 280 miles of National Recreational Trails to hike, 452 lakes to go fishing, kayaking, or boating on, and we offer 15 miles of beach along Lake Michigan.

And sports fans are more than covered. Hoosiers and Rudy both take place in Indiana, for Christ’s sake. We hold the largest IndyCar race in the world — the Indianapolis 500. The Pacers are consistently one of the best teams in the NBA. The Colts are the pride of the state and can do no wrong, and Indianapolis, which hosted Super Bowl XLVI, is consistently rated the best Super Bowl venue of all time. Four of our colleges have been nationally ranked in different sports: I.U., Purdue, Notre Dame, and my alma mater, Butler. Go Dawgs!

So, yes, there is much, much more to this state than just cornfields. Even though I have to admit to playing hide and seek in them as a kid. I wouldn’t recommend it: it’s itchy as hell.

4. Talk smack about Peyton Manning / Reggie Miller / Bobby Knight.

Oh no you didn’t! Don’t talk down about them at all, ever. They are not to be trifled with. Okay, you can say Bobby is an asshole, but you can’t take away the fact that he basically won the triple crown of college basketball (the NIT title, the NCAA title, and an Olympic Gold medal) while at IU. Peyton may be hanging out in Denver selling pizzas to stoners and winning against the Colts (most of the time), but he is still a point of pride for this state and has a major presence in Indianapolis, including at the Peyton Manning Children’s Hospital. Reggie, well, he is like our Michael Jordan, and unlike MJ, he never left our city.

5. Tell us Indiana has no impact on culture.

James Dean, John Mellencamp, Larry Bird, David Letterman, Johnny Appleseed (yes, he’s real), Jim Davis, Eli Lilly (thank him for those sexy pharm reps), Carole Lombard, Cole Porter (“Oysters down in Oyster Bay do it”), Madame C.J. Walker (the first self-made female millionaire), Kurt Vonnegut, and Michael Jackson along with the rest of the Jackson Five are all from Indiana.

Also, Honest Abe. You know, the president who brought freedom to our country? He was raised here too. Outside of these cultural icons, our state is continuing to be a cultural hub here in the Midwest and in the country as a whole.

6. Take away our ranch dressing!

Don’t you ever take away our ranch! Actually, bring some extra.