Was Stella's text to me during her ride home from the airport. My response? GOD, no.
Yes, we've been back for a full 24 hrs now. I usually do my last blog entry from whatever foreign country I still happen to be in, because who the hell cares once I'm on the plane home right? That had been my plan for our last day - grab some coffee, walk around a bit more, play in the park, and end the blog.
Now that Stella and I had a thorough and complete understanding of our neighborhood, and now that I had figured out how to use street numbers ("Oh yay! The numbers get bigger as you go further this way! And that matches with the pocket map! We're GENIUSES!"), and now that we had walked and walked and walked through Palermo, Recoleta and Barrio Norte over and over, the last thing I expected was to get so lost that we had to scramble to make it back to the apt in time for our airport pick-up.
I blame not my poor sense of direction, but a wrinkle in the space-time continuum and the fact that I had already packed the pocket map that had become our best friend over the last week so that, instead of being on my person, it was resting comfortably in my suitcase waiting to emigrate to America.
The word "Lost" doesn't quite do justice to the situation I found myself in. I can't speak for Stella but I was so turned around that East was West, Right was Left, In was Out, Cat was Dog...you get the picture.
Ultimately, our driver was happy to wait - get this: he showed up 20 min early - and we made it to the airport with gobs of time to kill. Which I did by eating my post-scramble/pre-flying feelings in the form of everything sugary I could get my hands on. Hot chocolate, brownie with dulce de leche and whipped cream, chocolate bon bon...it was amazing. But I digress.
The point of the final blog post is to outro my adventure, similar to the way every dramady wraps up each episode with a "what I've learned" and a self-congratulary pat on the back as I wax nostalgic on events that just occurred.
What I've learned (insert appropriate Amy Mann song here):
- Porteno men appreciate women like it's their job. Day 1, after the 15th or 16th man appraised us, Stella and I wondered out loud why we weren't pissed off by it (because those who know me well, or even not at all, know I detest being ogled) and we decided it was because it wasn't just us. It was every woman. Men in Buenos Aires are like birdwatchers. They look and whistle at all birds, not just the pretty ones, because they like and appreciate all birds, not just the pretty ones. Also, this keeps the attention from being threatening in most situations.
- Buenos Aires loves Aerosmith. Every country I've been to has it's own guilty pleasure. In Greece, it was Tom Jones. In Costa Rica, it was Gwen Stefani. In Buenos Aires it is definitely Aerosmith. Specifically, "Don't Wanna Miss A Thing" the cheesiest of cheesy ballads. I think Stella and I heard that particular song at least 5 times in one 24-hr span.
- My motion sickness extends to subways. That's a bummer.
- Cab drivers in Buenos Aires are mostly fatherly or grandfatherly gentlemen - unless they are super hot and young - who love to give advice. Because this advice is coming from a dad-like "authority" figure, they yell it at you. Unless we were lucky enough to get a young, cute driver, they all yelled at us, but FOR OUR OWN GOOD. The lessons we learned:
1. the aforementioned close-the-door-slowly-so-you-won't-break-it lesson
2. the hail-the-cab-on-the-other-side-of-the-bus-stop rule
3. the don't-use-a-park-as-a-cross-street guideline
4. and the I'm-dropping-you-off-here-because-I-can't-drive-any-closer tidbit.
That last one wasn't a rule, but he still yelled it at us.
- Young men are persistent and romantic in Buenos Aires. I gave our number out to a couple of guys who I later decided I had no interest in seeing again, so I ignored their texts. Text after text after text, Stella would crack up and ask, "Which one?" But they never got pissy or put off. Ultimately, one of the guys essentially ended our "relationship" with something along the lines of "Our time together was lovely and I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip." but in Spanish.
- The word I most closely associate with anything having to do with motor vehicles on any street in Buenos Aires is "careen." They careen around corners, they careen through stoplights, and they careen straight at you.
- Valium doesn't begin to compare with the fairy dust magic that Ambien is. My flight home on Valium was a torturous affair of falling asleep only to wake up every 20-45 minutes.
- Buenos Aires has no shopping to speak of. This is contrary to everything I've read about the city. Granted, I'm not a huge shopper. But Stella is no amateur, so as we hit the streets our eyes were always open to finding a great shop or cool find. There was nothing, between the two of us, that we had any interest in buying. Clothes and shoes were uninspiring and jewerly looked like it was from any place else in the world. My impression is Buenos Aires is such a melting pot of cultures - European, South American and American - that it lacks it's own defined sense of self. Of course, I didn't shop for leather goods or antiques, 2 things Buenos Aires is famous for, because I can't afford them, nor do I have any interest in them. So maybe that was my mistake.
- Beef is good.
Usually the trips I take feature some sort of hardship like living out of a backpack, being unable to find enough tepid water to manage a real shower, or traveling to different locations every other day. This trip was the most comfortable and cushy adventure I've had, so my "what I've learned" aren't as profound as I feel they usually are, but that's all in my perspective isn't it? I already know how I deal with rats in my bedroom (surprisingly well) and oppressive heat (not so well), so how's about I see what I can see when life is easy?
I experienced an amazing and beautiful city with a volatile history with one of my favorite people in the world. We lived in the moment, slept late every day, ate what we wanted, laughed a lot and danced til dawn. And I wholly appreciate all of it. What more does a girl need?
Yes, we've been back for a full 24 hrs now. I usually do my last blog entry from whatever foreign country I still happen to be in, because who the hell cares once I'm on the plane home right? That had been my plan for our last day - grab some coffee, walk around a bit more, play in the park, and end the blog.
Now that Stella and I had a thorough and complete understanding of our neighborhood, and now that I had figured out how to use street numbers ("Oh yay! The numbers get bigger as you go further this way! And that matches with the pocket map! We're GENIUSES!"), and now that we had walked and walked and walked through Palermo, Recoleta and Barrio Norte over and over, the last thing I expected was to get so lost that we had to scramble to make it back to the apt in time for our airport pick-up.
I blame not my poor sense of direction, but a wrinkle in the space-time continuum and the fact that I had already packed the pocket map that had become our best friend over the last week so that, instead of being on my person, it was resting comfortably in my suitcase waiting to emigrate to America.
The word "Lost" doesn't quite do justice to the situation I found myself in. I can't speak for Stella but I was so turned around that East was West, Right was Left, In was Out, Cat was Dog...you get the picture.
Ultimately, our driver was happy to wait - get this: he showed up 20 min early - and we made it to the airport with gobs of time to kill. Which I did by eating my post-scramble/pre-flying feelings in the form of everything sugary I could get my hands on. Hot chocolate, brownie with dulce de leche and whipped cream, chocolate bon bon...it was amazing. But I digress.
The point of the final blog post is to outro my adventure, similar to the way every dramady wraps up each episode with a "what I've learned" and a self-congratulary pat on the back as I wax nostalgic on events that just occurred.
What I've learned (insert appropriate Amy Mann song here):
- Porteno men appreciate women like it's their job. Day 1, after the 15th or 16th man appraised us, Stella and I wondered out loud why we weren't pissed off by it (because those who know me well, or even not at all, know I detest being ogled) and we decided it was because it wasn't just us. It was every woman. Men in Buenos Aires are like birdwatchers. They look and whistle at all birds, not just the pretty ones, because they like and appreciate all birds, not just the pretty ones. Also, this keeps the attention from being threatening in most situations.
- Buenos Aires loves Aerosmith. Every country I've been to has it's own guilty pleasure. In Greece, it was Tom Jones. In Costa Rica, it was Gwen Stefani. In Buenos Aires it is definitely Aerosmith. Specifically, "Don't Wanna Miss A Thing" the cheesiest of cheesy ballads. I think Stella and I heard that particular song at least 5 times in one 24-hr span.
- My motion sickness extends to subways. That's a bummer.
- Cab drivers in Buenos Aires are mostly fatherly or grandfatherly gentlemen - unless they are super hot and young - who love to give advice. Because this advice is coming from a dad-like "authority" figure, they yell it at you. Unless we were lucky enough to get a young, cute driver, they all yelled at us, but FOR OUR OWN GOOD. The lessons we learned:
1. the aforementioned close-the-door-slowly-so-you-won't-break-it lesson
2. the hail-the-cab-on-the-other-side-of-the-bus-stop rule
3. the don't-use-a-park-as-a-cross-street guideline
4. and the I'm-dropping-you-off-here-because-I-can't-drive-any-closer tidbit.
That last one wasn't a rule, but he still yelled it at us.
- Young men are persistent and romantic in Buenos Aires. I gave our number out to a couple of guys who I later decided I had no interest in seeing again, so I ignored their texts. Text after text after text, Stella would crack up and ask, "Which one?" But they never got pissy or put off. Ultimately, one of the guys essentially ended our "relationship" with something along the lines of "Our time together was lovely and I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip." but in Spanish.
- The word I most closely associate with anything having to do with motor vehicles on any street in Buenos Aires is "careen." They careen around corners, they careen through stoplights, and they careen straight at you.
- Valium doesn't begin to compare with the fairy dust magic that Ambien is. My flight home on Valium was a torturous affair of falling asleep only to wake up every 20-45 minutes.
- Buenos Aires has no shopping to speak of. This is contrary to everything I've read about the city. Granted, I'm not a huge shopper. But Stella is no amateur, so as we hit the streets our eyes were always open to finding a great shop or cool find. There was nothing, between the two of us, that we had any interest in buying. Clothes and shoes were uninspiring and jewerly looked like it was from any place else in the world. My impression is Buenos Aires is such a melting pot of cultures - European, South American and American - that it lacks it's own defined sense of self. Of course, I didn't shop for leather goods or antiques, 2 things Buenos Aires is famous for, because I can't afford them, nor do I have any interest in them. So maybe that was my mistake.
- Beef is good.
Usually the trips I take feature some sort of hardship like living out of a backpack, being unable to find enough tepid water to manage a real shower, or traveling to different locations every other day. This trip was the most comfortable and cushy adventure I've had, so my "what I've learned" aren't as profound as I feel they usually are, but that's all in my perspective isn't it? I already know how I deal with rats in my bedroom (surprisingly well) and oppressive heat (not so well), so how's about I see what I can see when life is easy?
I experienced an amazing and beautiful city with a volatile history with one of my favorite people in the world. We lived in the moment, slept late every day, ate what we wanted, laughed a lot and danced til dawn. And I wholly appreciate all of it. What more does a girl need?
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