Thursday, October 29, 2009

Toby Give Me Srength....

As it turns out it is really hard moving to a new country and not speaking the language. Especially when my favorite past time is meeting and talking to new people. There's been very little real conversation had with any residents in Buenos Aires. Just broken, remedial, uninteresting exchanges resulting in a few people losing interest in trying to talk to me. Which is understandable considering it is probably as awesome as talking to a mute who stares blankly at you. Unblinking. Sike! I blink guys, but I've really got nothing to respond with other than a silent stare. It's even more frustrating that I can half understand what people are saying but don't know how to say anything back. I'm crossing my fingers that one of these mornings I wake up and the language click's in my head, I become fluent and can go about my merry way chatting people up, throwing around funnies and talking mess about mullets, hostel life and how no one feels the need to refrigerate anything.

And call me intolerant but I have had it with the washrag situation in all other countries I have visited outside de los Estados Unidos. I know I'm a little over zealous when it comes to cleaning but this is no over-reaction people! The washrags in this town don't wipe up anything. They just push messes around, spreading them out into a thinner layer than they were initially. A non-american washrag doesn't soak up water either. Nope, just leaves it standing on whatever surface fell victim to a spill or attempted wipe down (that created a more gear grinding experience than it should have). The whole reality of the situation is very irritating. But it's cool, just another cultural learning experience.

Dear America,

You are so pretty, clean and fun to talk to. I miss you.

Wait for me....


In support of Southie and to keep myself from buying an AMERICAN FLAG t-shirt, NRA Membership and The Best of Toby Keith, here's a list of South American Yahtzee's:

A Dollar is worth 4 pesos.
The average Argentinean man is a supermodel.
Buenos Aires plays the jams! Everywhere, in all the stores, homes, street vender's all play the best songs from the 80's and 90's that a girl could ask for!
You can stay up as late as you want and it's not all that embarrassing to get up at 1:30 in the afternoon.
You can call and have coffee, ice cream, vino, etc. delivered to your doorstep!
Whilst driving, you can use traffic lanes, or not. Whatever you feel like.
All beef and wine is delicious, no matter what end of the spectrum you buy on.
There's a pretty substantial Rasta community.
A pastry full of mashed potatoes is 25 cents and is called a "Special Snack"


Pichon means Pidgeon and Rascal

We got Squirted ladies and gentlemen. That's right, we fell victim to the trademark trick of thieves around the world. But instead of having our backpacks squirted with something manageable/savory like ketchup or mustard, this fartface squirted us with the foulest smelling green liquid I have ever had the displeasure to sniff. Laura hypothesized that it was perm chemicals. She would...SURPRISE NEWS FLASH: Laura's curls aren't natural! She's been perming her hair since childhood and tricked us all. That perfectly curled mullet at age 7 was on PURPOSE! Ok, I made that up, the mullet was an accident and no one's fault. Dale and Anita couldn't be expected to know what to do with that mop. But it is suspicious that she knows exactly what perm juice smells like, don't you think?
Anywhom, thanks to a prior warning from aforementioned Dale Huysman (Hi Dale!), Laura knew what that rascal was up to and we escaped without being robbed. In your face first week!

What else happened this past week? Oh yeah, Laura and I swooped an apartment in the city center which is awesome and we only have to share it with one pequito cucarachas so far.

In the process of getting our new habitacion we met the funniest group of Argentinean guys who all work for the same Hostel/Real Estate Company and are all either brothers or friends of each other... They spend their entire days sitting in the main office, talking on 30 phones at once, taking overlapping phone calls and conversing amongst themselves while Laura and I sit there and watch. The first day we spent at the office we were waiting for our contract to be drafted and our keys to be given to us. It took 5.5 hours. Quote from that first day: "If I have to watch more Argentinean men talk on phones I will lose it."-Laura Huysman. She did not lose it and in fact, after the initial learning curve of doing business in Buenos Aires we decided we really liked it. We paid our bill in segments for various reasons, primarily because we could never make it to a bank on time to withdraw the whole amount and ATM's are stingy with dinero dispensing here. But also because we could and no one cared. We spent 3 days (maybe 4? I've lost track) sitting on the white couch of La Rocca Propiedades for hours hanging out with these chuckleheads while they "worked". Activities like that are why a person moves to a foreign country to live for a while. Ahhh, me gusta.

In conclusion: The thief and the guys from la rocca represent two distinct types of pichon's. And I still despise pigeons.

Sunday, October 25, 2009


Symptoms of neither malaria nor dengue fever have revealed themselves. I'm still on the look out never know with viruses.

Yesterday was a happy bust. Laura and I thought we were going to be able to waltz into the fancy area of town, get ourselves and apartment for a third the normal price and settle into a new, trendy bohemian exesitance in Buenos Aires. As it turns out, Argentinians are having none of that nonsense. We got no such living quarters and are instead moving a few blocks down the street, still in the hood, to our own apartemento, which will be legit compared to the lamebutt hostel we are in now. Added plus: the manager of said apartment, Martin, is super fly.

Aside from not getting exactly what we wanted, the day was great! We passed a woman and her little boy walking down the street and as we did he whirled around to exclaim, "Oh! Que lindo vestido!!!" (oh, what a cute dress!) which made me feel like I'd made a good clothing choice. 4 year old approved, athankyou!

We made our new friend Yamil walk around with us all day and he was tired after four blocks but stuck it out for another 4 or 5 hours which was admirable, considering his start. Yamil quote 4 blocks into our outing: "I need to meditate less and start exercising more." Don't we all Yamil? Except Laura and I would need to sit around and eat cheese less and start exercising more. To each their own.

Yamil bailed on us near the end of our journey and bussed it back to that wack hostel of ours. Laura and I continued to finish out the walk back only to become witnesses to a RAT ATTACK!!! EEEEK! An enormous Argentinian rat with a mustachio and dreadlocked mullet came running out onto the sidewalk to fetch some eats, I'm assuming, and instead ATTACKED a nice girl's ankle!!! She screamed. I screamed. An old bag lady laughed. It was terribly exciting.

That's all for now. I'll be burrowing into a pile of bread and cheese if you need me.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Malaria or Dengue

Oh god. I've woken up with a huge mosquito bite on my thigh. This can only mean one of two things: I have Malaria or I have Dengue Fever.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Live From Buenos Aires!!!

I saw a rotund gentlemen earlier sporting a shirt that read, in enormous print, "LIVE FROM RIO" and loved everything about it. I'm thinking a "LIVE FROM SEATTLE" shirt is an order.
In other news, it's storming in BA (rain, lightening y thunder) and I just got smooched by a guatemalan, sneak attack style. The look on my face was probably something similar to that of a surprised woodland animal and it's also probably safe to say he's not interested in another seduction attempt. That's fine Yamil, we'll be friendski's from here on out as initially planned.
In even more news, the lurkster who spoke neither English or Espanol is actually a snobby brit ('Scuse me, Welsh. He'd have my left hand for that mistake if he were here...) who just didn't want to talk to Laura! HA! Or he has Asperger's, potato/potaato. The ice was broken this evening via a Brazialian and the aforementioned Hhhhhuatemalan, who are his roommates. AKA he was forced to talk with us because they were. GOTCHA MR. BEAN! Sucker. He's a weird guy, ladies and gentlemen, and we are fans of his. His neck beard means business and he was wearing a Thundercats t-shirt because he thought it crossed cultural boundaries pretty successfully. It's been a pretty good night at Pangea Hostel, which semi-makes up for how lame it was last noche.
The only downside came when Laura and I tried to cook a gourmet meal of macaroni and cheese con asparagus and were seriously bothered by a creepy French couple. They were boring, mute, annoyingly up in our biz and did nothing to help when we accidentally broke a shelf in the fridge sending an open canister of tomato puree and a bunch of salad flying all over the floor. Laura practically had to lick up the mess, as there were no cleaning apparati. You need to represent your country, frenchi's, and the cool onlooker position hasn't been popular for the past 500 years. Get yourselves together.
Ahhhh, on that note, I'm going to brush my L'American teeth.

Goodnight world!

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Calle de Poopie

It's 11:49pm Standard Argentina time at Pangea Hostel in Buenos Aires and I'm sitting on a seemingly bed-bugless bunk listening to the communal radio playing Kool and the Gang "Get Down On It." I'm feelin this beat too. Unfortunately the only person active at the hostel is some lurkster Laura ran into who speaks neither English or Espanol so I'm guessing a hostel-wide dance party isn't in the cards. The good news is that radio has been playing the jams since we got here, making the transition from North to South less of a shocker.
Here's another fun fact about Pangea Hostel: It's in the hood. We thought we were reading the map right when we decided it was awesome and in the city center. Lesson learned. It's a one door establishment, situated on a street run by stray dogs and doused in doodoo, henceforth to be referred to as Calle de Poopie (an ode to the Villa de Poopie Shauna, Megs and Taniko lived on in Italy).
The plane rides down here were hell, as anticipated. Traveling is awesome but flying is the worst thing ever created. I refuse wholeheartedly with any argument in support of it so don't even try. It also does not help when the woman sitting two rows behind you lost her damn mind when she decided to bring a terrified chihuahua and rambunctious toddler on the plane. C'MON! Prescription pills to the rescue! I slept almost the whole way to Southie and woke up with a nice breakfast danish and yogurt in my lap. Thanks United!
Laura and I weren't all that tired after our 10 hour coma's on the aeroplane so we spent 4ish hours wandering the city in search of cooler areas to live in, hotter guys to make eyes at and steak. We found the first two and have yet to get a fillet mignon in our mouths. We made friends with the owner of a bar, El Bar de Julio to be exact, who gave us the number of his realtor friend who is going hook it up with an apartment in a waaaay better area than the one we are in now (which is still cool though because it's foreign). Welp, I am now suddenly tired and ending this blog, but I would like everyone to know that we saw our first dreadlocked mullet today. Business in front, reggae in back. And I leave you with that.

Buenos Noches.