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.