Is what Stella squeaked out during Tango class as her partner began speaking to her in rapid-fire Spanish. But more on that later...
After walking what Stella and I have decided is anywhere from 10-20 miles each day since we arrived AND eating lots of sustaining saturated fat-filled goodies at each meal, we skipped dinner last night and went to the heladeria around midnight for a bit of gelato instead. We chose a place named Bianca Heladeria because, you know, it was close and stuff. Mediocre ice cream, but what a beautifully named establishment!
A word about the hours we keep: Portenos are late-night party animals and we fit right in. Stella and I are on the right side of the 4 hour time difference, so when people wouldn't be caught dead at dinner before 10p, thats really 6p to us, thus we were able to smoothly adapt. Also we've been consistently getting to bed after 2am and sleeping well past 11. Sort of...I just figured out a few hours ago that the time change is 4 hours NOT 5, and therefore we really haven't known the time since we left LA. Neither of us carry our phones or wear watches and I gotta say - super liberating. The only reason I decided to define the time once and for all is so we wouldn't miss our Tango class. Again, more on that later...
This morning, we did our usual roll out of bed as we cursed the barking dogs, into a cafe for coffee, and onward into our day. Today we walked to the Cementerio de la Recoleta where we ambled through alleys of the most ornately beautiful and gothic mausoleums and crypts. As luck would have it, our languid day put us at the Cementario in the perfect late afternoon light for incredible pictures. The place is a somewhat maze-ish especially if you are two friends who are prone to wander away and take pictures on your own. Regardless, we were good at staying aware of each other. Then we decided we were ready to leave and proceeded to lose each other for the next half hour. One second we were walking together, the next second I see a great shot I have to take and the following second Stella is nowhere to be found. We have this running joke about how we have the same thoughts at the same time. ("I could use a drink and a pee." "Me TOO!!"; "Oo, pizzaaaa" "I was JUST thinking that!") I knew when I decided to pick one of the larger alley thoroghfares and wait for Stella to find me, she would no doubt have the same thought, and pick her own busy alley intersection to wait for me to find her. That's why it took a whole half hour to find each other. We alternately waited and searched at the same intervals. Criminy.
On our way back home, we walked through Barrio Norte and discovered a hole-in-the-wall take-away empanada/pizza joint. The owner was an older gentleman who delighted in discussing every aspect of the menu with us. At first, we each ordered a single empanada to go (Stella: jamon y queso, Me: Carne. I won.) but they were so incredible we walked back in and ordered a dozen more carne. That dude loved us. The feeling was mutual.
After disco naps, we half Subte/half hoofed it down to Abasto, a more traditional porteno area where our Tango school is located. Linda Valentino, our tango teacher in LA - yes, we've only been to her once, but I love her, I'm know I'm going back again and again, so she's now MINE (I mean, OURS) - recommended the tango school that started it all for her: Carlos Copello Escuela de Tango. The class is taught entirely in Spanish, and it's the best class in the whole world. We took Tango 1. The class was children and adults, first-timers and seasoned, native and foreign. Maxi, our teacher, had 2 teaching assistants - a boy and a girl who were no older than 11. It was THE. MOST. FUN. EVER. My partner for the majority of the time was an 8 year-old boy named Augustin. If he is in class tomorrow - oh yeah, we're going back - I'm definitely putting him in my tango shoe-bag and bringing him home with me. That kid...there are no words. He was new-puppy-level adorable AND he is a wonderful dancer. Yes, DEFINITELY kidnapping him tomorrow.
Tango rocks because it's just walking. It's the sexiest walking you'll ever do without making your butt the focal point. It's all about control, pressure, flare, and awareness. I LOVE.
We walked home, high on tango and dehydrated. I thought I could maybe be hungry but in no way was in the mood for meat, cheese, or bread. So we stopped at a pizzaria.
An aside: Lots of Italian immigrants settled here, so Buenos Aires is actually known for it's pizza and pasta, too. We're not being lazy Americans for eating pizza is all I'm saying.
Yes, there was bread and yes, there was cheese, and damn, was it good!
What a fantastic day!
2 Biancas, No Waiting
Stella in Cementerio
Getting artsy with reflections
After walking what Stella and I have decided is anywhere from 10-20 miles each day since we arrived AND eating lots of sustaining saturated fat-filled goodies at each meal, we skipped dinner last night and went to the heladeria around midnight for a bit of gelato instead. We chose a place named Bianca Heladeria because, you know, it was close and stuff. Mediocre ice cream, but what a beautifully named establishment!
A word about the hours we keep: Portenos are late-night party animals and we fit right in. Stella and I are on the right side of the 4 hour time difference, so when people wouldn't be caught dead at dinner before 10p, thats really 6p to us, thus we were able to smoothly adapt. Also we've been consistently getting to bed after 2am and sleeping well past 11. Sort of...I just figured out a few hours ago that the time change is 4 hours NOT 5, and therefore we really haven't known the time since we left LA. Neither of us carry our phones or wear watches and I gotta say - super liberating. The only reason I decided to define the time once and for all is so we wouldn't miss our Tango class. Again, more on that later...
This morning, we did our usual roll out of bed as we cursed the barking dogs, into a cafe for coffee, and onward into our day. Today we walked to the Cementerio de la Recoleta where we ambled through alleys of the most ornately beautiful and gothic mausoleums and crypts. As luck would have it, our languid day put us at the Cementario in the perfect late afternoon light for incredible pictures. The place is a somewhat maze-ish especially if you are two friends who are prone to wander away and take pictures on your own. Regardless, we were good at staying aware of each other. Then we decided we were ready to leave and proceeded to lose each other for the next half hour. One second we were walking together, the next second I see a great shot I have to take and the following second Stella is nowhere to be found. We have this running joke about how we have the same thoughts at the same time. ("I could use a drink and a pee." "Me TOO!!"; "Oo, pizzaaaa" "I was JUST thinking that!") I knew when I decided to pick one of the larger alley thoroghfares and wait for Stella to find me, she would no doubt have the same thought, and pick her own busy alley intersection to wait for me to find her. That's why it took a whole half hour to find each other. We alternately waited and searched at the same intervals. Criminy.
On our way back home, we walked through Barrio Norte and discovered a hole-in-the-wall take-away empanada/pizza joint. The owner was an older gentleman who delighted in discussing every aspect of the menu with us. At first, we each ordered a single empanada to go (Stella: jamon y queso, Me: Carne. I won.) but they were so incredible we walked back in and ordered a dozen more carne. That dude loved us. The feeling was mutual.
After disco naps, we half Subte/half hoofed it down to Abasto, a more traditional porteno area where our Tango school is located. Linda Valentino, our tango teacher in LA - yes, we've only been to her once, but I love her, I'm know I'm going back again and again, so she's now MINE (I mean, OURS) - recommended the tango school that started it all for her: Carlos Copello Escuela de Tango. The class is taught entirely in Spanish, and it's the best class in the whole world. We took Tango 1. The class was children and adults, first-timers and seasoned, native and foreign. Maxi, our teacher, had 2 teaching assistants - a boy and a girl who were no older than 11. It was THE. MOST. FUN. EVER. My partner for the majority of the time was an 8 year-old boy named Augustin. If he is in class tomorrow - oh yeah, we're going back - I'm definitely putting him in my tango shoe-bag and bringing him home with me. That kid...there are no words. He was new-puppy-level adorable AND he is a wonderful dancer. Yes, DEFINITELY kidnapping him tomorrow.
Tango rocks because it's just walking. It's the sexiest walking you'll ever do without making your butt the focal point. It's all about control, pressure, flare, and awareness. I LOVE.
We walked home, high on tango and dehydrated. I thought I could maybe be hungry but in no way was in the mood for meat, cheese, or bread. So we stopped at a pizzaria.
An aside: Lots of Italian immigrants settled here, so Buenos Aires is actually known for it's pizza and pasta, too. We're not being lazy Americans for eating pizza is all I'm saying.
Yes, there was bread and yes, there was cheese, and damn, was it good!
What a fantastic day!
2 Biancas, No Waiting
Stella in Cementerio
Getting artsy with reflections
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