Hola all my nonexistent followers,
Victory this week: I've got a house! Here's the link:www.vrbo.com/262055. It's a darling little house on a little block of pastel colored stucco homes. I've been here about 48 hours.
Things I've learned this week in Buenos Aires: Don't lean your face over a bidet to experiment with how it works. A curiously refreshing facial results.
Also, don't wear anything but stable flat shoes on the uneven, potholed sidewalks of BA. Only Argentine women can navigate the pavement in three inch heels.
And don't look around to admire the stunning colonial buildings. I ended up on my face yesterday doing that, luckily, not in dog poop.
It's really unfortunate about the dog poop and the uneven sidewalks ... all this wonderful architecture and you can't even look around to enjoy it. I heard an American say yesterday, "Looking down you get a two-fer ... you avoid dog poop and cracked sidewalks."
I said perhaps I should wear knee pads and wrist protectors while walking here, and my companion added, "and a helmet."
Also, the taxi drivers are out for blood. Pedestrians must constantly be dodging and running, even in marked crosswalks. My method is to try to cross with a woman with a small child or a pregnant woman to improve my odds. Old people aren't as safe a bet.
Pluses of being here: Excellent $5 bottles of Argentine champagne, gelato in exotic tropical fruit flavors with whiskey and rum added. Cheap cabs. Being able to buy flowers everyday if I wanted to ... parilla chicken and chimmichurri sauce.
On Sunday I went for a steak dinner in a local restaurant that doesn't even have a sign. My landlords, a very nice Argentine couple had introduced me to it when I came to see the house. I went by myself and there were several tables of people eating and drinking champagne. "It must be some kind of celebration," I thought. Someone sent me over a glass and all the tables lifted their glasses to me.
An older man came over to me (he was the only English speaker) and I asked was it a birthday, anniversary? "No, it's Sunday," he answered. Gotta love a city that drinks champagne just because it's Sunday.
And the restaurant had a framed photo of John Gotti on the wall with his birth and death dates ... like he was a movie star!