So every now and then, I’m reminded of how I’m not quite a coffee expert yet. As you may know, I consider myself well versed with the drug of caffeine, but this vehicle is still somewhat bewildering to me.
We specifically left early for the train today so that I could stop and pick up some coffee at Girabaldi’s (or whatever Italian sounding bakery name you would like to give it). I managed to successfully order a large coffee and even looked fairly knowledgeable in the way I coyly pulled out two one dollar bills from my wallet.
It’s one of those let’s-save-money-on-labor-costs-by-making-the-poor-saps-pour-their-own-coffee places, so I took my fancy self over to the coffee station to make my cup o’ joe. Then the trouble started. I reached for a cup, but the spinning cup dispenser was wily and the big gulp size managed to evade me. After outsmarting the cup devil by using two hands, I went to the coffee fountain things. I asked which had caffeine, and she said the left one. The 126-point font signs above the coffee led me to believe she wasn’t lying to me.
Still actually hating the taste of coffee, I went for the sugar substitute next. How much fake sugar do you put in a big coffee? 5? Better make it 8. Having seen my lovely wife do this a million times, I stack the 8 packs on top of each other and try to open them all at once. Turns out, my wife has the grip of a lesbian Russian lumberjack and I can only get the corners off half the sugars. Thinking quickly, I try using my teeth. That only gives me several bits of paper in my mouth and a delicious sugar-coated beard. Now that I’ve covered the counter in Equal, paper and my saliva, I give up and add the sugar packets individually.
Pouring in the milk went smoothly.
I spent the day yesterday at the library pictured above. Two things struck me as odd about the building. One, there was a pretty intense security system for a library, and two, I didn’t actually see any books.
Due to my lack of actually reading anything, the absence of books didn’t bother me. It was more the intense security that piqued my curiosity. As you can tell, the edifice has some curious architectural aspects too, in that it appears to be built to survive on a serious flood plain. It’s moderately close to the river, but not even a 500-year flood would take this puppy out. It’s modern design was met with the same skepticism that greeted the glass pyramid of the Louvre. Side note: Robots clean the Louvre pyramid. Eventually, the people of Buenos Aires became accustomed to the biblioteca, and it is now accepted as one of the great structures of the city.
I rather like the library, but I still can’t help but think that the altitude and security are in place for the benefit of an alien book-club. They’re probably reading Eat, Pray, Love.
Today is a sad day in Buenos Aires. I just discovered that my friend former friend, Marc, has a blog specifically dedicated to Buenos Aires. http://literallybsas.com/ This “blah”-g is clearly an attempt to steal the glory and readership that I have worked hard to accumulate here at itslegalinargentina.tumblr.com, and I take it as a personal offense, and a clear act of internet warfare. Marc is a journalist, and he’s been living in Buenos Aires for much longer than I. Yes, I’m fighting a war of words against a real writer. He has infinitely more experience (he’s, like, really old), more technical expertise than I could ever dream of, he’s mastered at least two languages that I know of, and to top it all off, he’s British. This scenario reminds me of another war which pitted the mighty Brits against an inexperienced, but fiercely righteous people who stood up for what they believed in. No, I don’t see this being my own American Revolution, I was referring to the Falklands War…
Historical Note: The Falklands War started when Argentina decided to try to take the Falkland Islands, a British archipelago in the South Atlantic, by force in 1982. While the Argentines have claimed ownership of the islands for decades (they call them “Las Islas Malvinas,”), the UN doesn’t recognize their claim, and their military actions were not met with much support from the international community. Basically, The British got a telegram that one of their territories was endangered, and they sent a couple boats to kick the Argentines out. Whole thing lasted only 74 days, and Argentina got spanked in a war they started. I don’t really know what the Argentinians are so worked up about though. From all the pictures I’ve seen, the place doesn’t look anything like the Maldives (which I thought it was for my first month here), and it’s only draw is hanging out with some British guys and seeing ugly penguins.
One plus I have in my column is that in the right light, Marissa’s stuffed animal, Fluffy Duck, looks surprisingly like Benjamin Franklin
. see previous post.
Vocabulary is a big part of speaking. Knowing words makes it much easier to form sentences and express yourself. Here’s the first lesson in this educational series:
Another part of speaking in a language with words is forming sentences with said words. Let’s try a simple example:
Sometimes it helps to have anecdotes to remember words, too.
Yesterday was the Argentinan holiday, Primavera - i.e. the first day of Spring. Absolutely everything was closed, which means Derick’s classes were canceled as well. Considering that 90% of his classes are on Mondays, he definitely lucked out. The weather cooperated and the first day of Spring was sunny and 70º (fahrenheit - still don’t have the celcius thing down), so we spent the day in the park practicing Spanish and people watching. Unfortunately, the weather forgot about Primavera and today we woke up to 40º temperatures (again, fahrenheit), wind and rain. So today was spent working on Spanish inside and ordering in sushi for dinner - which is what we are waiting on as I type. I placed the order, completely in Spanish without the person on the other end of the telephone asking “como” once (which is my personal measure of my ability to speak Spanish). We will see what is actually delivered.
Tomorrow evening we are leaving for Iguazu. This trip will (hopefully) result in a much more interesting post!
Tandil is only 5 ours away from Buenos Aires, by bus of course. Almost everyone in Argentina travels by bus. The only people that fly are the wealthy and the tourists. As I am clearly not the first and try not to be the second, I use the bus.
South American buses are not of the same ilk as Greyhounds or the Lucky Star buses that so many Yankees know so well. They’re surprisingly comfortable and a great deal if you get an overnight bus. ”Liar!” you might say, “a bus is still a bus.” The empirical evidence supports my claim, and these buses really are just like first class on a flight, only with worse food. They even have open bar if you take a long trip. Some may say drinking and riding in very large vehicles don’t mix. I say if it worked in college, it works in Argentina.
I’m keeping these short, in the hopes that I’ll post more often, but chances are you’ll never really need to know more about Tandil than it’s distance from BsAs. And that they have the most amazing cheese and salamis in the entire country. Marissa and I split a pile of meat and cheese the size of Nerf football at one of the coolest restaurants in the world- epocadequesos.com
The mountains had been waiting for thousands of years for just such rugged explorers in jeans and designer sunglasses.
Tres is Spanish for three. That’s how many weeks I’ve been here. Marissa was only here for a couple of days before we took a bus to Mendoza, which offers the triple threat of wine, skiing, and sunburn so bad it makes me unable to express emotion with my face.
We were on the top floor of a double-decker bus that was surprisingly roomy. We sat in the very front with huge windows, so it felt like a 14 hour ride at a really crappy Disney World. That being said, it was awesome. I pretended like I was driving the bus for a good 10 minutes before my arms got tired.
This weekend we will head to the town of Rosario, in hopes to see the most glorious football match - Argentina vs. Brasil. Más Grande del Mundo Fiesta del Tragos al aire libre . I don’t know if we’ll be able to get tickets to the game, a bus ride there, or a place to stay Saturday night. We’re going all the same.
Brasilero Brasileeero
Que amargado se te veee
Maradona es mas grandeee
es mas grande que Peleeee!
I’m pumped. The lady arrives today, despite yet another terribly delayed flight. I’ve been working all morning to make the apartment look like a real person lives here, and I think she’ll be pleased. Still on the to-do list:
