Matador Network's Blog, page 2177

10 Japanese customs you should know

Photo by Jesslee Cuizon

1. Addressing Someone, Respect

Bowing is nothing less than an art form in Japan, respect pounded into children’s heads from the moment they enter school. For tourists, a simple inclination of the head or an attempt at a bow at the waist will usually suffice.

The duration and inclination of the bow is proportionate to the elevation of the person you’re addressing. For example, a friend might get a lightning-fast 30-degree bow; an office superior might get a slow, extended, 70-degree bow. It’s all about position and circumstance.

In addition to bowing, addressing someone properly is key. Just as a “Dr. Smith” might feel a little insulted if you were to refer to him as “Smith”, so would a Japanese if you do not attach the suffix “san” to their last name, or “sama” if you are trying to be particularly respectful.

Usually children are content with just their first names, but you can add the suffix “chan” for girls and “kun” for boys if you like.

2. Table Manners

Some simple bullet points here:

If you’re with a dinner party and receive drinks, wait before raising the glass to your lips. Everyone will be served, and someone will take the lead, make a speech, raise his drink, and yell “kampai!” (cheers).
You will receive a small wet cloth at most Japanese restaurants. Use this to wash your hands before eating, then carefully fold it and set it aside on the table. Do not use it as a napkin, or to touch any part of your face.
Slurping noodles or making loud noises while eating is OK! In fact, slurping hot food like ramen is polite, to show you are enjoying it.
You may raise bowls to your mouth to make it easier to eat with chopsticks, especially bowls of rice.
Just before digging in, whether it be a seven-course dinner or a sample at a supermarket, it’s polite to say “itadakimasu” (I will receive).

3. No Tipping

There is no tipping in any situation in Japan – cabs, restaurants, personal care. To tip someone is actually a little insulting; the services you’ve asked for are covered by the price given, so why pay more?

If you are in a large area like Tokyo and can’t speak any Japanese, a waiter or waitress might take the extra money you happen to leave rather than force themselves to deal with the awkward situation of explaining the concept of no tipping in broken English.

Just remind yourself: a price is a price.

4. Chopsticks

Depending on the restaurant you decide upon for that evening, you may be required to use chopsticks. If for some reason you aren’t too adept with chopsticks, try to learn before passing through immigration. It’s really not that hard.

One false assumption among many Japanese that’s slowly being dispelled by time is the “uniqueness” of Japan. Japan is an island nation; Japan is the only country that has four seasons; foreigners can’t understand Japan; only Japanese can use chopsticks properly.

I cannot count the number of times I’ve been told I use Japanese chopsticks with skill and grace, despite the fact I’ve seen three-year-olds managing just as well. If you’re dining with a Japanese, don’t be surprised if you receive a look of amazement at your ability to eat like a Japanese.

5. Thresholds

Take off your shoes at the entrance to all homes, and most businesses and hotels. Usually a rack will be provided to store your shoes, and pair of guest slippers will be sitting nearby; many Japanese bring a pair of indoor slippers just in case, though.

Never wear slippers when you need to step onto a tatami mat (used in most Japanese homes and hotels; the standard unit of measurement for area even today), and be careful to remove the toilet slippers waiting for you in the bathroom.

It is extremely bad form, for example, to reenter the main room of a house wearing slippers that have been running across dirty linoleum.

6. Masks

SARS is long gone, though I did happen to see a “SARS Preparation Kit” during my brief stay in a Japanese hospital. Nevertheless, sterilized masks, like the ones you’d see in the emergency room, are commonly used by salarymen, office ladies, and municipal workers to protect other people from their germs.

Rather sensible when you think about it, as masks do not protect the wearer so much as the ones around him. The reason could be anything from a slight cold to simply being worried about exposing other people; don’t let it concern you on your Japanese vacation.

7. Conformity

When groups of high school students in Japan were asked to identify the dangers facing children today, the majority agreed on the number one threat: individualism.

Japanese society is focused on the group. Western cultures are focused on the individual. Does this mean that the Japanese are nothing more that worker bees in a vast hive of steel and concrete? Certainly not, but their presentation of such individual qualities are carefully calculated and given in doses.

Drawing attention to yourself as an individual is a huge no-no: don’t blow your nose in public, try to avoid eating while on the go, and don’t speak on your cell phone in crowded public areas like trains or buses. The main problem with this is that foreigners simply can’t avoid standing out; we stick out like sore thumbs no matter how long we’ve been here, or how much we know about Japanese culture and society.

As a result, being in Japan gives foreigners the status of D-level celebrities: you’ll get glances, shouts for attention, calls to have pictures taken with people, requests for autographs (happened once to me on a southern island), and overall just more awareness of being a “stake that sticks out”.

8. Bathing

Public bathhouses are alive and well in Japan.

Sento, or neighborhood bathhouses, can be found from the largest area in Shinjuku to a small town on the island of Shikoku.

Onsen, or hot springs, are very popular as weekend excursion resorts.

Unlike in western cultures, the Japanese bath is used after you have washed and rinsed, and feel like soaking in extra-hot water for 10, 20, 30 minutes. It’s an acquired taste to be sure, but can be very relaxing.

If you happen to be invited into a Japanese household, you will be given the honor of using the bath first, usually before dinner. Be extra careful so as to not dirty the water in any way; the sanctity of the ofuro (bath) is of utmost importance.

Take the time to visit a sento if you have the opportunity. These are places without barriers, without regard to skin color, age, or language… well, they are separated by sex with the exception of some mixed-bathing areas. Lying in the hot water and slowly listening to my heart beat slow down is a time when I feel most attuned to Japanese culture.

9. Speaking English

Japanese will generally assume you are a native English speaker until you prove otherwise. Even during a short visit, you’ll see:

A group of schoolchildren in neatly pressed Prussian uniforms walking across the intersection, shouting “Hello! Hello! Herro!” as they assess your foreign features
A random person just walking up to you and asking “Where are you from?”

Friendly? Certainly. But I can see how constant celebrity status might get confusing or frustrating for travelers who don’t speak English.

Although you may speak some or fluent Japanese, the default language of choice is English. Many Japanese will insist on using their own English language ability, however limited, to converse with foreigners, in spite of the fact that the person on the opposing end may have more knowledge of the local tongue.

10. Safety

Every Japanese person I have met warns me to be safe in my travels, to take care of my belongings. Every foreigner tells me not to worry, nothing can go wrong, nothing will be stolen. This may be based on individual experience, but there are other issues:

The fear of crime in Japan is high, especially among Japanese citizens.
Murders happen. I repeat, murders happen. People are attacked, robbed, assaulted, raped, beaten, and swindled.

However, Japan’s low crime rate is evident when you see businessmen who have missed the last train sleeping outside on a park bench, or a group of 5-year-old boys walking by themselves for over a kilometer to make the starting bell at school.

This article was originally published on May 27, 2008.

How to: travel to Socotra Island

Photo: Alexandre Baron

Somewhere between 189 and 217 nautical miles off the coast of Yemen (depending on your source of information), and some 130 off the coast of Somalia, like a tiny, glittering tongue-stud in the gaping maw of the Gulf of Aden, lies the legendary island of Socotra (Suquṭra), ancient source of ambergris, dragon’s blood, frankincense, and myrrh.

Now an International Biosphere Reserve, it’s been called a Wonder Land, the Galapagos of the Indian Ocean, and one of The Most Alien Landscapes on Earth.

“It is one of those unique places in the world,” says Spanish toptrotter Jorge Sanchez, founder of the well-respected Travelers Exploits Club.

And it has a long and distinguished history of being very hard to get to.

By Sea

With two annual monsoons (southwest from June-October and northeast from April-May), no natural harbor, not much anchorage to speak of, and a flourishing offshore piracy business, arrival by sea has always been problematic.

Thomas the Apostle is said to have been shipwrecked here sometime in the first century A.D., on his way to or from India. They say he built a church from the wreckage.

Marco Polo managed a safe landing, apparently, but noted the abundance of corsairs selling booty to the locals. For the generally uncooperative weather he squarely blamed the latter: a naked people he described as “the most skilful enchanters in the world.” He continues,

[I]f a ship is proceeding full sail with a favourable wind, they raise a contrary one, and oblige it to return. They can make it blow from any quarter they please, and cause either a dead calm or a violent tempest.

According to The Arabian Nights, Sinbad the Sailor made a brief call here on his fifth voyage, only to have his ship destroyed not by Socotran witchcraft but by a pair of huge, angry, possibly not entirely mythical birds-of-prey dropping boulders on it.

Birds of such description no longer factor among the 211 species on the Socotra Bird Checklist and the last Socotran witchcraft trials are said to have been held in the 1970s, but the corsairs, as always well-equipped with the latest in contemporary weaponry and chutzpah, are still very much in business.

According to Alan Lucas’ classic Red Sea and Indian Ocean Cruising Guide, “vessels have been grappled and towed into shore for looting.” Yachtsmen are advised to give the archipelago as wide a berth as possible.

Several local fishermen have been murdered in 2009, or have had their boats or engines taken out from under them at gunpoint. A freighter bound for Socotra with 2,000 tons of diesel fuel was taken by Somali pirates and held for ransom between January and April of 2009, causing a shortage of electricity on the island.

The silver lining, for diving enthusiasts, is an unparalleled underwater landscape of sunken vessels waiting to be explored.

By Air

Bill Altaffer, of Expedition Photo Travel in San Diego, was among the first tourists to Socotra after a new airstrip was built in 1999. It almost didn’t happen for him.

“We got on a plane in Sana’a,” he recalls.

It was a crummy plane, a Yemen Air piece of shit, and as we’re about to lift off there’s this big bang and flames shoot out of the engine.

Altaffer’s been to every country in the world, plus 300 island groups, disputed areas, territories, and colonies. He’s been to both poles. He’s surfed off every continent and skied on six. The dude was the first American to surf the legendary Queenscliff bombora off Manly Beach in Sydney (in 1962).

He wasn’t about to let a little equipment failure get in the way of his pioneering visit to what he describes as “an island full of blond people who are descendants of Alexander the Great.”

If it had come to it, he’d have gone through Aden, where weeks earlier the USS Cole had docked to a warm welcome of Al Qaeda-brand C-4 explosives. As it turned out, Yemenia found another plane in somewhat better condition.

Charles Veley, of San Francisco, who, by his own count, is The World’s Most Traveled Man, has been to 710 “countries, territories, autonomous regions, enclaves, geographically separated island groups, and major states and provinces.” When he gets to 762 he figures he’ll have been “everywhere” — that is, unless the number goes up before he gets there.

He hit Socotra early on December 31, 2004, back when there was only one flight a week, “so the choice was whether to turn around the same day or stay 7 days.”

Veley stayed for a couple of hours, found the landscape “remarkable and otherworldly,” and the people “super-friendly — much friendlier than on the mainland,” then got back on the plane in time to make a giant New Year’s Eve party and Sean Paul concert at the Sheraton in Addis Ababa.

When he goes back to Socotra, he says, he’ll spend 3-5 days and treat it “like a camping trip, because the hotels are basic and in the only town [Hadibo], and the scenery is far out of town.”

Until recently, Yemenia (Yemen National Airways) was the only airline with semi-regular service to Socotra (SCT). For a while it was almost daily, out of both Sana’a and Aden, through Riyan (RIY) at Al Mukalla.

Now, both Yemenia Airway (once a week) and Felix Airways (twice a week) fly to Socotra from Sana’s airport in Yemen. You can also fly into Socotra from Sharjah airport in the United Arab Emirates once a week.

And let us know how it goes!

Rules, Regs & Red Flags

For the latest travel advisories, piracy and terrorism updates, and general visa information, check the U.S. State Department’s oft-updated Yemen Page.

General Notes/Tips from Jorge Sanchez

You can hitch hike from the airport to Hadibo: the first car will give you a ride. In Hadibo there are several hotels, you can bargain for the price. The first one is where all tourists meet, Germans, Italians, and the rest. They organize trips, excursions, rent Land Rovers, etc. I went further downtown and found a nice hotel, cheap, with shower. But several nights I slept à la belle etoile, on the beach. People brought us mattresses to sleep on the sand.

Fish is good and cheap, as well as goats.

Transport is easy: just stop any pick-up and negotiate a price for the highlights of the island, especially the dragon’s blood trees and the oasis in the middle of the island, it’s all very cheap.

Learn some Arabic, it’s very useful in negotiating prices.

The only inconvenience is that beers are forbidden, and all alcohol, so it’s water or Coca Cola. Still, you will not regret visiting Socotra!

This article was originally published on July 27th, 2009.

5 lies about moving abroad

Photo: malloreigh

1. This is going to turn me into one of those savvy travelers.

You know the type. They’re the ones who go away for a week on business with only a carry-on of non-wrinkle layering pieces and a briefcase. Their 3.4-ounce containers of toiletries are tucked neatly into clear plastic cases, just the way the TSA intended. In my mind, being on the road all the time would, if not teach me the virtues of non-wrinkle fabrics, at least make me less of a hot mess in the airport. But sadly, that has not been the case.

Seven years later, I’m still the woman dragging mismatched, 70-pound suitcases through the terminal four minutes before check-in closes, sweating under 8 layers of clothing and all the jewelry deemed too heavy to survive the weigh in. I leave $60 bottles of facial cleanser in my carry-on and the chargers to all my electronics in my checked bags. The thing is, travel doesn’t fundamentally change who you are. I was chaotic and unorganized when I was living in the States, and 25+ countries haven’t changed that.

I have, however, figured out how to pack a laptop so I don’t have to empty the entire bag in order to put it away after the security check. That’s enough for me.

2. It’s only a year.

This phrase became my mantra months before I switched my suburban Philadelphia cubicle for a classroom filled with South Korean kindergarteners. I stacked boxes into a 10’ x 5’ storage unit and reassured myself — and everyone around me — that the move was temporary.

Fast forward seven years. The clothes and shoes that I left behind are so hopelessly out of style that they might even be fashionable again. It took me awhile to accept that the “temporary” move I made so long ago is now my lifestyle. I’ve started to accept that I’m not coming back anytime soon to empty those boxes. No amount of safely stored velour tracksuits, framed IKEA prints, or old college textbooks is going to bring me back to that Philadelphia cubicle.

Sometimes I try to visualize myself going back to the kind of life I had — before the term expat came to define me — but in about eight seconds my ADD kicks in. I start daydreaming about sipping vodka martinis with well-heeled businessmen in Kazakhstan’s glitzy capital of Astana, or wondering how expensive flights are to South America at Christmas, and I give up. I’m sure I’ll get back one day to claim those boxes, but not just yet.

3. It’ll be like a long holiday.

When I took my first job overseas, I believed that, just by virtue of being in another country, my day-to-day existence would be sprinkled with fairy dust, that all those little annoyances of life would magically disappear. And sometimes the foreignness of it all does make things easier. When Manila’s brutal traffic made me late for a meeting, the security guard greeting me with, “Hello, mam sir!” brought a smile to my face.

But work, no matter where you do it, is work. Passive-aggressive glares look the same, regardless of whether it’s a Korean or an American boss shooting them your way. Deadlines and office politics are a fact of life from Texas to Tanzania. Although living and working overseas can be strange and exhilarating, it can also be incredibly exasperating. My first foray into an Asian supermarket netted me a bag of salt to sweeten my coffee and an $8 avocado. I spent three hours dodging cows in abandoned oil fields in Azerbaijan because the rental car’s GPS had letters from an alphabet I’m not familiar with. I love the life I’ve created for myself, but there are times that I long for the simplicity of a place I understand.

4. It’ll let me get this travel thing out of my system.

Travel is like any other addiction, really. You wouldn’t hand a recovering alcoholic a bottle of 30-year-old Scotch and say, “Drink this and you’ll be done with the sauce forever.” Feeding the fire just makes the blaze bigger, period. The travel bug was mostly dormant when I was living and working in the States. It would flare up occasionally, like itchy eyes during allergy season, but a quick trip to Ireland or Jamaica would be the Claritin that dulled my symptoms. I thought that a year of living and working in South Korea would be the magic pill that would put my wanderlust permanently into remission.

It didn’t work.

Instead of curing me of my affliction, moving to Korea was the protein that affixed the virus to my cells. The gleefully dirty weekend I spent rolling around in mud at Boryeong’s annual Mud Festival was a bag of dope in a heroin addict’s hand. Posing astride an eight-foot long penis at a park erected (heh) to honor the glory of the male genitalia was the cigarette given to someone who’d gone three months cold turkey. Anyone in a twelve-step program will tell you that complete and total abstinence is the only way to tame the beast of addiction. Quite frankly, I’m not interested.

5. I’ll talk to my friends and family as much as I do now.

Don’t get me wrong. In many ways, technology dissolves distance. I can send a WhatsApp to a friend in San Diego just as easily as I can to one in Australia. I can have wine dates on FaceTime with friends in DC, although doing so generally means that one of us is drinking at a wholly inappropriate time of day. I even once had a Skype video call with my parents during a Steelers game so we could watch it together. My dad and I took turns cursing the offensive line and my mom showed me her latest quilt projects during the commercial breaks.

But, while technology seems to compress space, it’s not quite as effective on time zones. There are still times when homesickness hits me like a gut punch. And although I’m fairly certain that my friends and family in the US still love me when they’re awake, the feelings they have when woken by a phone call at 3:30am aren’t as warm and fuzzy.

And as much as it sucks to admit, some of the distance has nothing to do with the oceans and miles between us. Although I have a general idea of what their lives look like because mine used to look very similar, it’s hard for them to wrap their heads around what my daily reality is. While they’re cooking pork roasts and watching Mob Wives, I’m ordering room service and trying to find a tropical disease specialist in Bucharest, Romania who knows how to treat an African bot-fly infection.

What NOT to do in Japan

Photo: Sergiy Zavarykin

1. Don’t… play pachinko.

Pachinko is one of the few ways to legally gamble in Japan, but don’t be lured into a parlor thinking you’ll see attractions like those of Vegas. The place is beyond loud and full of cigarette smoke.

The games themselves should be reserved for a 10th circle in Dante’s Inferno. Imagine a pinball machine with a computer screen display; once you pull the lever you have literally no control as to where the ball ends up.

Just like in Vegas, you’ll find burnt-out slot jockeys mechanically inserting yen, winning once every 27 days. Fun fun.

Do… sing karaoke.

A karaoke booth with an all-you-can-drink special is a much better alternative if you want to be surrounded by video screens and loud noises.

It’s nothing like a country-western karaoke bar in the U.S.

All the booths in Japan are private, so you can only make an ass of yourself in front of close friends.

The Shidax chain is my favorite, but every town should have at least one place to sing.

2. Don’t… climb Mt. Fuji when there’s a line.

Fuji is swamped with foreign and Japanese tourists in the official hiking season (peak in August), and completely overwhelmed during the Obon holiday week.

By this, I mean you’ll have to wait in line the entire climb and struggle to crop people out of your photos.

Do… climb in the off-season.

Late September and October would be “safest,” with minimal snow, but if you want the trek to yourself, bring the right gear and see if you can get permission from the 5th station to go in November or December.

Obviously, this can be rather dangerous, and I don’t recommend it to anyone who doesn’t have mountaineering experience. Attempting the ascent early, in May or June, can be just as risky with the rains.

If you’re looking for an alternative path to the summit, check out the Fuji Mountain Race.

3. Don’t… drink at the Lost in Translation bar.

The film-famous establishment is located at the top of the Park Hyatt in Shinjuku and should be avoided by all but the most fanatical Johansson/Murray fans.

Unless you enjoy paying 4,000 yen (USD 40) for a fruit and cheese platter.

Do… enjoy city views elsewhere.

The gallery and coffee shop atop Roppongi Hills immediately comes to mind.

4. Don’t… pay to dress like a geisha.

This is an activity many Kyoto guesthouses and hostels offer for the ladies (maybe the men too?).

For about 10,000-30,000 yen (USD 100-300), depending on services offered and time allowed, your face will be painted pale white, your hair arranged in traditional geisha style, and your body stuffed and folded into a slim silk kimono.

Why? For photos to send home? The chance to see what geisha experience? Sometimes you’re allowed to take a short walk outside in full regalia and watch the reactions of startled Japanese men and tourists thinking: “Wow! A real geisha! Get the camera!”

Unfortunately, it’s just not worth it; with foreign noses, eyes, and facial features, we simply look ridiculous.

Do… meet the one foreigner who can pull it off.

Australian-born Sayuki, currently working in the Asakusa district of Tokyo: www.sayuki.net

5. Don’t… travel far and wide for cherry blossoms.

Imagine you’ve just flown into Tokyo one Sunday in April; those flowering trees that have inspired thousands of haiku and drunken hanami (viewing parties) are now in full bloom and ripe for the watching.

Instantly, you think: “I’ve got to get to the best viewing spots in the country, quickly!” Many travelers do this, following the spread of the sakura (cherry blossoms) from the south of Okinawa in February all the way to Hokkaido in May.

If you ask me, it’s not worth the effort.

Do… check out your local sakura.

The very best blossoms might be right where you’re at. Every city, town, and prefecture in Japan has a great place to lay down a blanket, crack open an Asahi, and view the petals falling as gently as snow.

I won’t deny there are some great trees out there, but don’t feel pressured to rush out of town; cherry blossoms bloom for only one week, and even with reliable sakura forecasts, it’s difficult to schedule a holiday precisely around full bloom.

Instead, take advantage of your present surroundings.

6. Don’t… restrict your WWII studies to hiroshima.

Japanese World War II history goes way beyond Hiroshima City’s Peace Museum, A-Bomb Dome, and Paper Crane Memorial. By all means, visit each of those, but once you finish…

Do…

* Take the train over to Nagasaki and tour its Peace Park. Did you know Kokura was the original target on August 9th, but cloud cover caused the pilot to divert to Nagasaki?

* Really go off the beaten path with the Kamizake Museum in Chiran, Kagoshima Prefecture. Hundreds of letters are on display, written by pilots as goodbyes to their families.

* Visit the controversial Yasukuni War Memorial shrine in Tokyo, which honors the spirits of those fallen.

7. Don’t… see Japan through emerald glasses.

For most foreigners coming to Kyoto, [the cityscape's distasteful modernity] merely whets their appetite to find the old Japan they know must be there. When they finally get to Honen-In Temple and see a monk raking the gravel under maple trees, they say to themselves, “Yes it does exist. I’ve found it!” And their enthusiasm for Kyoto ever after knows no bounds. The minute they walk out of Honen-In they’re back in the jumbly modern city, but it doesn’t impinge on the retina – they’re still looking at the dream.

Dogs and Demons: The Fall of Modern Japan, Alex Kerr (quoting Mason Florence)

Most Japan newbies are on the hunt for “old Japan”: zen temples with chanting monks, samurai warriors parading the streets.

But the truth is, even though a few pockets of the country have successfully preserved it, that Japan has been fading from existence since the 1960s.

Do… question the value of unchecked modernization.

At some level we all appreciate the fancy robots and electronics in Akihabara, the high-speed trains, and the capsule hotels.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t enjoy your Japanese holiday by reaping all the benefits of modernization. Just be aware of some of the things the country has given up to get to this point.

This article was originally published on October 20th, 2009.

Surfing Argentina's Mar del Plata

Photo by Sky Noir

MAR DEL PLATA IS the surf city of Argentina. 600,000 people live in this beach town south of Buenos Aires, and sometimes it seems like most of them are out in the lineup. The waves aren’t the greatest in the world, but the vibe is stellar and the locals know how to party.

Fall and winter pack the best swell, with Antarctic currents making the water feel like, you know, it’s coming from the Antarctic.

During the summer the beaches are literally packed with Porteños, vacationers from Buenos Aires, as well as sun-seekers from the rest of the country. While the swell tends to die, the water temperature rises nicely…like the countless thongs and killer nightlife.

Weather Conditions

Water temperature varies greatly. Summertime temps hover around 20 degrees. Fall cools down and by the time winter arrives in June, the water’s generally slurpy-brain-freeze cold: like, 8 degrees on average.

A 3/2 shorty suffices in the summer; spring and fall you can get by with a 3/2 full suit; winter demands a minimum 4/3 suit with booties, gloves and hood. The best swells come from the south. In the summer you should be happy to get four or five feet at a period of anything more than 8 seconds.

The rest of the year you can expect something like this on a pretty consistent basis, but five-day dry spells are not at all uncommon. If you’re making the five-hour trip down from Buenos Aires be sure to check a swell report or grab a look at the breaks on a webcam.

The best time to be in the water is early morning before the wind picks up. Of course, the best time to be in a nightclub is early morning before the doors close. It’s the true dilemma of the Marplatense surfer! However, if a large night has outbid an early morning wake-up, the wind will often die for about an hour around sundown, giving you a great time to be in the water, especially during the summer when crowds will have thinned.

Sharks, No. Shit, Yes.

There are no sharks in Mar del Plata—because they would have nothing to eat. Really, you will be lucky to see any sign of life at all in the water. There is a large port and the corresponding filth emanates south of Playa Grande.

Migrating trash from the beaches, especially during the summer, makes for some less-than-lovely paddling encounters. The largest concerns, however, come from post-storm runoff and the sewage processing plant located about 10km north of the city.

Processing here is definitely something of a euphemism: the sewage is oxygenized to expedite the decomposition and then pumped out in a giant pipe. Pretty gross? Lets call it the less glamorous side of the South American experience.

Fortunately swells generally come from the south or east. On the chance that your visit corresponds with a northern swell, the further south you can go the better.

The Breaks

Mar del Plata’s coast has been refitted with a swarm of jetties which, depending on the placement, have either created or destroyed the city’s surf spots. Most of the jetties are north of the city center in the neighborhood of La Perla.

Depending on swell direction and size these jetties can throw off some fun, hollow, little waves. Most of the time, though, their quick close-outs are more suited to body boarders. Look for something coming from the southeast at 5-7 feet for them to be working.

Playa Varnesse

Heading south from the city-center and its filthy, surfless beach (Playa Popular) the next beach you hit is Playa Varresse. Varresse used to be home to Mar del Plata’s best wave, a long right point break that was used for the Pan-Am games in 1995.

Shortly after this the point was blocked by the construction of a jetty and the wave was lost. Now the beach is substantially protected, but does pick up an eastern swell and can be a good place for beginners.

It’s also definitely worth checking on a big southerly where the classic point can still go off in front of the southern jetty.

Playa Grande

The most well-known and consistent breaks in Mardel come next as you’re heading south. Signage will indicate the beach: Playa Grande. The spot to be will shift from the north jetty to the south jetty depending on swell size and direction; sadly, it’s almost never hard to tell: unless you’re on dawn patrol, the pack should be thick.

The northern break is called Biologia, and is the most consistent spot during the small summer swells. The southern break is called Yacht, gets going during the fall and can be a really quality right point. Both receive wind protection from the respective jetties that they abut.

However, both waves also host some of the city’s most competitive crowds, whose presence and size can at times be debilitating. Like anywhere where there aren’t enough waves to go around, the vibe isn’t exactly friendly, but people are respectful and mostly just focused on catching what they can and having fun with their crew.

The exceptions are a few snaky body-boarders and teenagers—basically, city surfing as normal. In any case, comply with typical etiquette and surf with some confidence and you’ll have no problem.

Hell, get out before 10 a.m. with a decent swell and you’ll probably have a rocking good time.

Waikiki

Keep heading south and after about 3km you’ll pass Punta Magotes, the most familial of Mardel’s beaches. This ends at a point break called Waikiki. Waikiki is exclusively a longboarder break at anything under 5 feet. Even on larger swells the wave is considerably mushy—like the real Waikiki, but not as good.

Still, as far as longboarding waves go, this is the best option when there isn’t enough swell for things to be working at Playa Grande. And, since the crowd is generally older, the vibe is a good deal more relaxed.

Playa Mariano

After Punta Magotes comes Playa Mariano (it’s sometimes also referred to by the names of its balnearios, such as Honu Beach). This is Mardel’s beach break with the most exposure to southern swells, so it is generally faster and more powerful than the beaches closer to the city. It is also cleaner and, with a variety of peaks, it’s far less crowded. It is particularly wind sensitive, so getting out early can be really advantageous.

In front of the lighthouse, at the south end of the beach there is also a long right point that will go off on a large southerly, and is arguably the best wave around. However, conditions for this are fickle, and even locals have a hard time predicting its appearance.

On a given day though, Playa Mariano is probably the best place to look for waves in the Mar del Plata area. Further south there are more waves and fewer people. It can be a fun place to explore with miles of beach break to choose from. Quality generally increases as one approaches the little town of Chapadmalal in the south; from there you’re getting close to Miramar and a whole new scene.

Access

If you have a short-board, you can grab a bus. The 221 runs all along the coast and accepts change—fare of about $1.30. From the city center the 571 and 511 will take you to a stone’s throw of Playa Grande, but you’ll need a bus card, which you can buy at the main bus terminal or other kiosks around the city.

The 511 and 221 will also get you as far as Playa Mariano and the other beaches in the south.

Equipment

All the major surf beaches during the summer have surf schools offering rentals and classes. In addition Birdband has boards, wetsuits, wax and a super friendly shaper/owner Pepe Hill. It’s located in front of the cemetery on Almafuerte between Pellegrini and B.D.Irigoyen.

Casi Nuevo buys and sells all sorts of new and used boards, wetsuits and the necessary supplies. It’s in the city center at the corner of Rivadavia and 14 de Julio.

Accommodations

Hostel Playa Grande is a five minute walk down the hill to the breaks at, yep, Playa Grande. The hostel has a fun, young vibe, and caters to surfers, with boards to rent and organized surfing classes.

Another inexpensive option is Hotel Pergamino, which is located in the city center and is normally about $5 cheaper per night; its downside that it’s located a 30-minute walk or 10-minute bus-ride to any surf.

This piece was originally published on March 12, 2008.

Unique characters of Mexico City

Photo: Omar Mirón

The “lucky-bird” man

Whenever you visit a public plaza anywhere in Mexico, you’re sure to encounter a man with small cages of live birds inside (typically canaries and parakeets). These aren’t just some pretty-looking birds, they’re magical birds and they can predict the future. For just a few peso,s your future — really, a generic prediction — will be revealed in the form of a little piece of paper, which the bird will remove from a box or cup.

Caution: These magical creatures also love money and sometimes they’ll go into a paper-grabbing frenzy and, you guessed it right, you’re gonna be charged for every single piece of fortune telling. Those greedy birds!

Merolicos and their language mastery

This is a nearly extinct “profession” nowadays, maybe because people are no longer easily fooled. Merolicos appear where people abound; they’ll set a small, improvised stage and start their act. This can be anything: sometimes they’ll sell miracle products, others will try to read your mind, while still others will use animals like snakes or birds to grab your attention.

The common factor here is that they’ll never shut up (they frequently use recurring phrases, almost like mantras), and the miracle manifests several minutes after they begin their ramble: people will actually start buying the products announced or donating money in exchange for a stamp with some holy image they were forced to take. These guys know their business.

The typical Mexican phrase “Detrás de la raya que estoy trabajando” (stay behind the line while I’m working) is an obscure reference to the chalk lines merolicos paint on the floor before beginning their show.

And their faithful sidekicks, the paleros

No merolico act could be possible without an ever-faithful palero — a plant in the crowd how pretends to have witnessed the miracle cures or offers himself to assist the merolico with his street experiments and demonstrations. No street-scam act could survive for long without these guys.

The cleansing lady

In México, some people still go to their local chaman to get a limpia, in order to get rid of bad luck and whatever evil lurks inside them. The procedure is pretty much standardized and normally involves a heavy beating with herbs, some eggs, a couple of prayers, and enough incense to leave you smelling like a cathedral altar.

Although this is more common in little towns around Mexico (Catemaco in Veracruz is famous for its witching habits), you can also find cleansing ladies in some markets and public plazas around Mexico City (Mexico City’s central plaza, Zócalo, has its fair share of them). The price of a limpia can vary, but if you’re güero or güera (fair-skinned) you’ll surely be asked for a VIP price, which unfortunately doesn’t include VIP treatment.

The sweet-potato vendor and his nightmarish whistling cart

Everybody loves sweet potatoes and those cooked bananas covered with condensed milk. So, what’s so nightmarish about that? Well, these urban delicacies are sold in a very distinctive cart that also serves as an oven. The steam that accumulates inside the car is not just used for the cooking, but to announce the arrival of sweet-potato time. The vendor turns a valve and the innocent-looking cart releases a whistle that sounds as if all the souls of purgatory were suddenly released through the cart’s fucking chimney. Believe me, you don’t want to be standing next to one of these things when they whistle! I’ve always wondered if the vendors wear any earplugs.

The uncanny dude with glass-proof skin

He’s just come out of jail and is fully reformed, so instead of mugging you, he’ll show you his recently gained ability of smashing his back against pieces of broken beer bottles in exchange for some money. This man won’t just lay on the pieces of glass, but execute a perfect somersault onto the glass. It’s a fairly common sight in the Metro of Mexico City during off-hours.

The almighty torero

You have probably encountered a lot of street vendors in your travels, but toreros (bullfighters) certainly win the prize as the most proficient in the art of disappearance. The nickname comes from the piece of cloth they use to display their merchandise (similar in shape to a bullfighter’s cape, thus their name), which is also the tool they use to vanish from local authorities before an inspection. One distant whistle is enough to empty a whole street of vendors in a matter of seconds without leaving any trace. It must be seen to be believed!

The omnipresent organ grinder

One of the typical sounds of Mexico City comes from an instrument of German origin: the street organ. Mexican melodies (essentially old Mexican melodies) have taken over the repertoire of these instruments and have become a cultural trademark of Centro Histórico. The street organ is always accompanied by two persons, one who turns the handle and one who passes the hat around. These characters are always dressed the same way: a beige uniform with a distinctive cap, inspired by troops of the Mexican Revolution.

The traditional conchero

Dressed in Aztec attire and blowing into a conch shell, the conchero prepares himself to participate in a dance full of pre-hispanic imagery and symbolism. Part cultural spectacle and part religious ritual, the conchero’s impressive folk dance is exactly the cultural display you thought you were never going to find in Mexico. The dance will take forever and you are free to join at any time. You will normally find these guys in Coyoacán and Zócalo, and they are always willing to talk to anyone interested in mexican culture and traditions.

The hated viene viene

Some people just love to take possession of everything and public spaces are no exception. Viene viene (come come) or franelero (flannel man) are the common names given to that guy who decides to take possession of some random street and charge you for parking there. Sound outrageous? It is, and they are everywhere…everywhere!

The vagonero and his party-ready backpack.

Another classic of Mexico City’s Metro. This guy is perfectly camouflaged, he steps into the wagon next to you, looking perfectly casual, he’ll maybe remain like that for a couple seconds, but all of a sudden he turns on his backpack to full volume (because it’s also a sound system, with subwoofer and everything) and starts promoting the latest compilation of cumbia, salsa, reggaeton, rock classics, or música de los dioses (a weird mix of orchestrated pieces). Even with the bulky load they carry, vagoneros manage to go through the whole wagon during peak hours.

The nearly extinct cafenauta

I’m sure that a lot of Mexicans will not recall these guys, but back in the day people with huge tanks of boiling water attached to their backs travelled through the city just after sunrise serving hot coffee or tea, especially in the areas near downtown. Nowadays, cafenautas are a rare sight, but you can still find them behind Mexico City’s Cathedral.

Global capitalism explained with cow

Photo: Martin Gommel

Finally, an explanation of global economics I can understand — thanks to a heavy dose of humor and cows. This meme offers a funny, yet regrettably accurate, accounting of modern-day capitalist economies by country. The Germans, of course, reengineer their cows to be superior to everyone else’s cows. Meanwhile, the bloody Italians aren’t even sure where their cows are, so they grab lunch. To no one’s surprise, the Americans are just completely full of shit. And those poor Australian cows are, well, see for yourself:

How to piss off a Brit in the US

Photo: Phil Hilfiker

Ask us if we’re Australian.

Nine times out of ten I get an “Oh, you’re from Australia?” when talking to an American for the first time. Um no, no I’m not. And, FYI, we sound nothing alike. I humbly correct them and tell them where I’m actually from. “Oh, you’re English? I thought it was one or the other,” they always say. I’ve taken to responding with: “Oh, don’t worry, Canadians always get it wrong.”

Put ice in our tea.

No, no, no, no, no. Please stop putting ice in my warm, soothing beverage. If you do this in England, you will be sent to the Tower of London. It is treason. We are a nation obsessed with tea; it’s sewn into our cultural identity. We like to serve tea in tearooms, indulge in ‘afternoon tea’ and ‘high tea’ maybe accompanied by sandwiches (no crusts) or scones with cream and jam. It’s not only a social event, it’s our answer for everything, our comfort blanket.

“Oh you’ve had a bad day? Here’s a nice ‘cuppa’ tell me all about it.”

“You’re in shock? Don’t worry, have a nice ‘cup-o-tea’ and it will all be ok.”

Tea is our:

healing drink,

refreshing drink,

maker of friends,

healer of broken hearts,

‘in’ with our builders,

deepest-apologies drink,

warm-you-up drink,

de-shock drink,

come-home-from-work-and-put-your-feet-up-drink.

But most of all: it’s OUR drink.

Tell us we’re about to consume one thing and then serve us something completely different.

When I’m hungover, I always crave a thirst-quenching, cold, fizzy can of lemonade. The sugar, the fizz, it all helps with my morning-after-the-night-before-head. Then BAM! Disappointment. Non-fizzy, lemony water, labelled lemonade strikes again. We have stuff like this back in the UK, but it’s called water-with-lemon in it. There’s no disguising it, the label says what it is.

Then there’s pie. “Who want’s a slice of pie?” The question echoes through the house. I get excited, salivating over the thought of a yummy dessert. Lemon meringue, apple, what? No, pizza. That’s just so misleading. If you want something sweet, you have a piece of pie. If you want something filling, you have a slice of pizza. So what do you call your pie pies then, huh? PIES?!

Do impressions of Austin Powers whilst mimicking our accent.

Ok, I get it. Let’s make fun of the ridiculous looking, crooked-tooth, English man played by a Canadian from that film made in the 1990s. He is funny, and he is ridiculous. But tell me something: Why can’t you mimic his side-kick Vanessa Kensington — played by the beautiful (and British) Elizabeth Hurley? I’d prefer that please. She’s more like it.

Ask us if we know the Queen, or any other member of the monarchy.

As much as I’d love to be invited round for afternoon tea with Lizzy at Bucks Palace and be on Kate and Will’s upcoming baby shower guest list, it sadly isn’t the case. I mean, they are just too busy shaking hands with world leaders.

Constantly ask us to repeat ourselves.

Nobody understands me. Well, I mean a majority of Americans still have trouble with my accent. I don’t have a regional-English accent. I’m also not Scottish, Welsh, or Irish, mine is straightforward and rather dull, but it’s English. I understand everything an American says, so why isn’t it the other way around? I also get extremely shy when you ask me to repeat ‘water’ for the fifth time in front of a queue of people. It’s not THAT funny!

Tell us to stop saying sorry.

We do say this quite a lot. I admit it. But what’s wrong with that? It could be worse, right? We could not say sorry but then we’d feel rude. You see, us Brits use it more as a sign of good manners, a throwback to the British class system, which still dominates daily life in the UK. We aren’t always actually sorry; we don’t mean it 100% of the time, but sometimes we like to chuck in an offhanded “Sorry!” to strangers to help avoid or diffuse a potentially awkward situation. If I nearly walk into you, I’ll say sorry. If you walk into me? Yes, I will say sorry then, too.

Not find any of my jokes funny.

In England I’m deemed mildly witty at best. In the US, my puns and sarcastic jokes are met with a confusing raise of the eyebrow and a shrug. As if to say: “You know, like she’s English, it’s ok if we don’t fully get her.”

In Britain, you see, we are brought up with a healthy dose of realism. We don’t want to celebrate things too soon for fear of failure and disappointment and this is reflected in our humor. Socially, we tease and take ‘the piss’ out of our friends. We use sarcasm abundantly in our every day speech as a shield and a weapon. We try to avoid sincerity unless it’s absolutely necessary. But our brashness is charged with equal portions of self-deprecation, which is why it’s okay for us to dish it out. Hey, we can take it. Sorry if you can’t!

Signs your husband is a New Yorker

Image by MichaelTapp

1. He believes that no amount of take-out is too much take-out.

On last count, you both ate out approximately six nights last week. And nope, you didn’t think twice about it.

2. He pulls up Google Maps when he gets into a taxi.

Only in New York do you have to be fully prepared to give turn-by-turn directions to a cab driver. You know not to hail a taxi until trusty Google Maps is locked and loaded. This isn’t London, it’s not a black cab, they don’t do ‘The Knowledge’. And if you’re in an outer borough, drivers are pretty much clueless.

3. He has no idea what a “sizable” living space is.

Every time you walk into one of his friends’ one-bedroomed shoeboxes in Manhattan, he stands around exclaiming how ‘roomy’ and ‘good value’ it is. Meanwhile, you struggle to pee quietly in the oh-so-conveniently located toilet, which is behind a 3-foot wall of glass cubes near the sofa. Cool. Well, it’s is all about the location.

4. He sees all NYC landmarks in terms of food.

Who cares about the best view of the Empire State Building, or visiting the Statue of Liberty? It’s all about the food. He’ll show you where the best taco food truck is located, and where to purchase the finest quality 99-cent slice of pizza instead.

5. He claims that he doesn’t have a superiority complex, but…

“Ohhh, you’re from New Jersey…I’m sorry.”

“Long Island? Meh, that’s not the city is it.”

Your marriage has caused you to subconsciously pity anyone who doesn’t live in the Big Apple.

6. He believes in only one neighborhood.

To him, there’s only one neighborhood that’s the best in NYC…his. Talk to any New Yorker about their neighborhood, and they will fight tooth and nail to convince you why theirs is THE BEST place to live and why yours is the LAMEST place to live.

7. He knows where every bottomless mimosa is hiding.

Sunday is now — by far — your drunkest day of the week. It will also be the day you get the most drunk for the least amount of money.

8. He shops strictly at bodegas.

I mean, it’s literally on the corner and some even deliver right to your door. He 100% doesn’t have the time (or the energy) to walk down 15 flights of stairs and back. There’s no elevator, it’s a lot of work.

9. He doesn’t believe in waiting.

Whether it be for public transport, food, or drinks, it is not acceptable to wait longer than 5 minutes to get on a subway or wait for a hamburger. This is New York — New Yorkers don’t have time to wait around.

10. He moves like a gazelle.

He’s very accomplished at hopping from foot-to-foot, ducking and weaving his way through hoards and hoards of people-traffic. If you dare come to a halting stop in front of him, be prepared to get steamrolled.

11. He’s street smart.

While walking in the street or riding the subway, he knows better than to make eye contact with anyone that looks a little ‘unstable’. This guy can even walk firmly on when a random man hollers “Heeeere’s Johnny!” in his face.

12. He has a healthy sense of disdain for every tourist.

You merely utter the word ‘tourist’ and it’s met with a sigh and a tut.

“There are too many of them.”

“They don’t move quickly enough.”

“Don’t even get me started on Times Square.”

He’s completely forgotten that you — his wife — were once a slow-moving Times Square-lingering tourist.

13. He’d rather die of thirst than pay $15 for a drink.

“Only tourists pay that much for a drink in Manhattan.” He knows that two blocks away on Rivington Street, you can get a $5 PBR and a shot.

Ways to make a Canadian like you

Photo: iwona_kellie

1. Pass the maple syrup.

We don’t know who had the patience to boil down the first 40 liters of liquid siphoned out of a maple tree to make just one liter of maple syrup, but the French Canadians seem to have had a hand in it, and we’re inordinately proud of the finished product. Ok, it’s sugar, but it has a special flavour, and with a little imagination it can be considered healthy. So, go ahead and drown your pancakes in it, try it in coffee, on your bacon — the possibilities are endless, and we’ll love you for it.

2. Comment on something you liked by Margaret Atwood.

That’s not to say I recommend you actually read any of her books, especially if you’re prone to depression. But she definitely has a lot of talent, and we’re proud of her.

3. Understand hockey.

Canadians love their hockey, and we want you to love it too. We’re very conservative by nature, and about the only thing that can rile us up to riot level is a loss in the finals. If you have to actually attend a game be sure to dress warm, because heating the stands around the frozen rink is a challenge even for flamboyant fossil-fuel burners like us. It’s a fast game, with little actual scoring, but the monotony of watching the puck being chased around is almost guaranteed to be broken by at least a few rousing fistfights. The rules are simple, and the beer stays cold, so snuggle down under your blanket and enjoy the enthusiasm of the crowd.

4. Talk about the weather.

For a country that has such a brief summer, and three other seasons divided into almost winter, winter, and still winter?, it may seem unusual that the favourite small-talk topic is the weather. I mean, who’d even want to think about it most of the time? It’s just cold, but we remark and agree on that fact frequently. Just ignore the insaneness and join us: “Cold out there, eh?” You’ll fit right in.

5. Forgive us for Justin Bieber.

The teenage heartthrob-turned-bad-boy has made enough embarrassing headlines that we’d rather just forget him and his hairstyles. A sympathetic nod at his mention will suffice, or, better yet, pretend you think he’s American.

6. Order poutine.

The French Canadians come by their culinary expertise honestly, right? Not to be confused with the Russian dictator, this tasty Canadian wonder is made of French fries smothered in gravy and topped with a generous helping of grated cheddar cheese. Sure, it’s every bit the bomb it sounds like, but, remember, it’s cold in Canada, and we need that kind of ‘nutrition.’

7. Pretend you believe the oil sands are clean.

They aren’t, and we know it. We have a collective guilt about it. But there’s just too much money in it to pass up, and we need something to power the pickup truck. Canadians like to think they’re ‘green,’ and thanks to our small population and huge natural resource base it’s relatively easy to pretend we aren’t one of the very worst polluters per capita on the planet.

8. Bash the Americans.

Our neighbours to the south may be our main trading partner, favourite shopping destination, and protective big brother on the world stage…but we’re much better than they are, and we know it. It’s not an inferiority complex; it’s just the way it is — and we appreciate other people respecting our superiority.

9. Apologize — especially when you aren’t at fault.

Try it next time someone runs over your ankle with their grocery cart: “Sorry! Excuse me!” Isn’t it fun? Canadians are outrageously polite — we even say, “Thank you!” in unlikely situations, like when accepting the traffic violation for not wearing your seatbelt. It doesn’t mean we’re really nicer than other people, though sometimes reversing cause and effect really works, kind of like laughter therapy. Give it a try…please.

10. Find Neil Young philosophical.

He is, isn’t he? Our version of Bob Dylan may have a rather nasal voice, but he’s an incredible musician that just doesn’t quit. The guy’s almost 70 and still touring and creating new stuff. He’s also an environmentalist and an activist and gives us reason to be proud.

11. Punctuate your questions with, “eh?”

We’re very agreeable here in the Great White North. We prefer to avoid controversy, a fact easily recognized by the constant need for reassurance in typical everyday speech. Adding this simple appendage to just about any statement will no doubt win happy agreement from your new Canadian friend. Sounds good, eh?