Mucho Carne

Yesterday was our primera dia de escuela espanol. We woke up VERY early (7:15am -- see Chrissie later in the day post classe) and it took a good 30 minutes to walk to classe. Upon arrival we were joined by two Brasilians, one Belgian, a guy from Holland and another guy who is Iranian but grew up in Sweden. Chrissie, it turns out, has a much more elegente job en espanol, contadora! But frankly our new titles in jobs (contadora e escritora) did not make us want to leave BA and return to our trabajar.

One note to those of you planning a trip to BA: The double LL is pronounced as a SZZHA not a YA. So "ellas" es "ASHA" or "asia" if you like, not "eyas." We're still adjusting.

Vaca e Vino
Yesterday was a bonus day for comida. I dug my knife into a side of cow, complete with garlic, olive and tomato sauce, plus a half a bottle of cab that tasted more like a pinot noir, but I wasn't complaining. For the last 7 days I have been consuming lots of queso and salads and beans, but no meat. So when I woke up Monday a bit more shakey than usual, my body declared "carne es necessito!"


So after four hours of mind spinning Espanol, Chrissie and I wondered upon Broccolini, an Italian joint complete with Don Corleone look alike in the corner, and of course, the red checkered table cloth. This is why we could not identify ourselves in the picture for fear the Italian mafia in BA would try to find us and ask us why we did not finish our steak! The steak was delish and medium rare and Chrissie enjoyed the fresh pasta and basil. It was one of the better meals so far!


Pardon Senora
After we stumbled out of Broccolini into bright sunlight, we continued up Esmerelda Av. Moments after we left the restaurant, me admittedly a bit "happy" from the wine, but walking a semi-straight line along the narrow sidewalk with Chrissie monitoring me from behind, we passed an elderly couple walking the opposite direction. I noticed them coming, the woman holding her husband's arm, the two of them looking very proper and so well dressed considering the heat.

I, of course, was in tank top, skirt and hair up off my neck, tatoos completely visible. As they neared me I started to inch myself out of the way (and I mean inch because that was all that was left on the strip of sidewalk before I would be risking life and limb in the street). Suddenly the bony elbow of the elderly woman jutted out and smacked me in the ribs. I was stunned. I turned back to look at Chrissie, slightly confused, and she confirmed that yes, I had just been smacked, maybe even shoved, by an old Argentinan woman. Que? No se. I started to laugh and spent the rest of our afternoon dodging older women, particularly the ones with canes in case I might get wacked!

Shortly after the jut in the ribs, we spied a heladeria. We paused, questioned if we could possibly stuff more into our stomachs, and agreed, yes, if it is ice cream we could. So we walked in and I tested my new phrase "me gustaria un pequeno helado chocolate morocho" and before I knew it I had a scoop of the most delicioso ice cream in my hand. It was amazingly creamy and rich in flavor and not too sweet. Under the heat of the day it quickly began to melt, so we walked slowly and devoured our cones before any was lost to the ground.

It was another dia en Buenos Aires that was truly magical, rib jut and all. This is me thinking about another early class manana. Estoy cansado!

Observations from Chrissie
Dog-owners in Argentina are just as ridiculous as anywhere else in the world - e.g. small white poodle sitting in a pushchair being pushed by an ancient woman barely mobile herself.

Maradona's (cheat of a) goal against England in the 1986 World Cup, aka La Mano del Dios, is still part of any football conversation here (why?!) Some small consolation to hear that Argentinians are not happy with Diego's coaching skills.