Intermission

Last night, I arrived back from a whirlwind tour of Argentina in which my family and I ventured into the jungle, the mountains, and the pampas. Iguazu, featured in the last post, is spectacular, and yes, was the setting for the Robert DeNiro-Jeremy Irons film "The Mission". On the Bariloche area, less than two hundred kilometers north of El Bolsón, I've already gushed enough, but suffice it to say that the scenery is just as mesmerizing there even if the town is a far cry from Bolsón's behind-the-beat charm.

Rosario, Argentina's second city, marked the end of our trip. It's a tranquil and pretty town that feels both refreshingly slow paced and a little barren. I love peaceful little villages, but I like my cities with a little more propulsion.

Today, I'm off to northeastern Uruguay for what promises to be an adventure. To get to the beach where I'll be camping, I need to take a boat, two coach buses, and then walk for 5 kilometers. The journey will take about 14 hours in total, but should be rewarded by a beautiful beach and the cooking of my friend Diego, an Argentine chef whose "private" restaurant in Buenos Aires is one of the very best places I've eaten down here.

A little extra:
My friend Adam Bloch—a sportswriter, jazz aficionado, and leading expert on subjects as diverse as New England beer and Alfred Hitchcock—has just released a feverish howl into cyberspace in the form of his Knicks blog "Isiah-in-Wonderland". The blog has been up for only a week, but Adam has already authored 12 passionate and hilarious posts. He's an excellent writer, so whether or not you're interested in the unending whimper that has been the Knicks' lot since Zeke took over, IiW is definitely worth a look.

Over at Destination: OUT, they're ringing in the New Year by reposting their 10 most popular tracks of the year. Number one is an exuberant and relatively accessible tune by the very strange Japanese pianist Masabumi Kikuchi. When I heard Kikuchi play with Paul Motian and Chris Potter last December, he croaked like Golem as he played his sparse piano. Call me small minded, but I draw my limit at Keith Jarrett's whining.