What I do and do not miss about Buenos Aires

DO miss

·         Falling in love with strangers on public transportation

·         Going to a club at 2am and then checking my watch only to see it’s now 5:30am and I’m still partying

·         Kissing everyone, I mean everyone, on the cheek

·         Waking up every day to hear Argentine Spanish

·         Tea time with las Madres

·         Eating bread and meat for nearly every meal

·         Political activism, involvement, and representation of many social sectors

·         All of the cool people I met; Argentines, Flacsitos, and foreigners alike

DO NOT miss

·         Surprise dog poop under my shoe on the street

·         Old ladies dying hair red

·         Dogs wearing jackets when it’s 60ºF

·         Not able to run at midnight, due to security problems even in nicer neighborhoods

·         Senseless and incessant honking as if continuing to honk will make the light change, stalled car restart faster, or elderly people cross the street more quickly

·         Watching the citizens throw their trash on the street even though a trash can is less than 2 metres away

·          Fernet

·         General dirtiness of the city

My life in Buenos Aires in numbers

0 Robberies

0 Bible verses read

1 Professional Argentine soccer game

2 Hair cuts

3 Classes received grade of 9/10 (A-) still waiting for last class grade

3 Crushes

3 Visits to the hospital

4 Museums visited

4 High fashion shows

5 Asados

5,21 Days traveling in bus (omnibus)

8,88 Days in class (213 hours)

9 Madres de Plaza de Mayo-Línea Fundadora interviews

15 Soccer games played

15 Blog entries

17 Books purchased

19 Neighborhoods in Buenos Aires (Capital Federal no Provincia) visited

33 Media Lunas

26,25 Litres of Beer

75 New Facebook friends

78 Trips in local bus (colectivo)

 81 Pounds of cereal eaten (36,75 kilos)

185 Pounds of luggage (returning)

311 Trips in metro (Subte)

313 New words/phrases in phrase book

1.050 New pictures on computer

Pesos spent- Too many

More fun south of 10 borders

Last week when I was on the Subte I witnessed violence.  Girl on girl violence.  More specifically- middle-aged woman on old-aged woman violence.  Argentines can be wildly crazy about their Subte.  Stuffed full of people as usual we approached a stop and a couple people started trying to maneuver to the door to exit.  Although, since there is no room to maneuver this is more often than not an exercise in pushing people and sometimes saying, “Excuse me”.  The doors opened and some people hadn’t yet exited before a wave of zombies started rushing to enter, even though there was no space.  Some men said, “Wait, some people are trying to get off.” Everyone stopped but this old lady, she persisted.  To the rescue of the people trying to get off a middle aged woman placed her blackberry in her pocket and then punched the incomer in the chest.  The old lady flew back and was cushioned by the mass of hungry zombies.

Two weeks ago I visited two northern Argentine provinces, Salta and Jujuy.  We spent most of the time in Jujuy which has very diverse climate zones and is not Europeanized like Buenos Aires.  We were instructed by the program to consider bringing extra money to buy local artisanal products.  I was expecting some beautiful handmade items but instead found the same sweaters/jackets but in many colors.  I was feeling a bit sassy one day and walked into one vendor’s area and began singing in Spanish, “Bolivian factories, I love Bolivian factories…” Then the man interrupted me and said, “Peruvian factories”.  I’m glad at least he didn’t pretend to craft those sweaters I didn’t buy.

People are being violently robbed but don’t worry I have been working out.

What has Zeke been doing?!

Trying to refine my lucid dreaming so I can ultimately dream walk

·         Interviewing Madres de Plaza de Mayo Línea Fundadora (70-90 years old)

·         Learning to move my hips

·         Playing indoor soccer which means making obnoxious comments and jumping around

·         Shaving my face more than once a week

·         Becoming a socialist

·         Instigating dog vs. cat fights

·         Having an identity crisis: zech, zaki, zeek, ziggy, zik, zeke, lindo, alex, boludo, rubio, cheto, yanqui, fatty

·         Having class one to three days a week

·         Buying you gremlins things

·         Growing out my hair

Growing/Ranting

Yesterday was the International Worker’s day after a short meeting about a project we’re developing for Las Madres I passed through La Plaza de Mayo with a friend.  After pausing several times and wishing we brought our cameras (touristy) a lady approached us.  She presented a candy and I assumed she wanted money for it.  She didn’t, and gave us the candies because of the celebration.  Then she began to chat with us about normal things.  Suddenly and unexpectedly she asked what are our dreams, I was really surprised and had to think for a moment but then shared with her a dream.  She then hugged each of us and then all of us hugged for several moments, the random human contact and emotion were refreshing and rewarding.

Today in AIDS class several nonprofits joined us to discuss their work with HIV-AIDS in Argentina.  Two ladies representing a group called AMMAR really demanded my attention.  They are fighting for the legalization of “sex labor” or prostitution, although there is undesirable stigma associated with that word.  But not only the legalization, also equal worker rights and benefits.  I was initially really turned off and opposed, but then I began to think why am I opposed to this?  They aren’t infringing on anybody else’s rights, they merely choose to do something that is arguably morally objectionable.  But homosexuality, marijuana, and drinking alcohol are also morally objectionable to some people.  If prostitution was legalized, although it might seem like society would be filled with impropriety but perhaps instead society would be improved because the state could regulate it.  What people do with their lives and bodies outside of not infringing on other’s rights is not my business.

When I was meeting with some Madres today to discuss a project proposal we began chatting about Bin Laden, original, I know.  But I am so fundamentally perplexed that people are celebrating the death of one man, celebrating the fact that he was systematically murdered.  I don’t see any justice in that nor does that make the world safer, yet alone better.  The Madres agree and trust me these ladies have a more than respectable perspective, considering their child(ren) was/were abducted, tortured, and murdered and they don’t even know how nor could they do anything to stop it.  Yet these women don’t scream for murder or vengeance but instead justice, even though it’s a slow process it’s the process that doesn’t violate people’s fundamental human rights.  Something you would think the recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize would be aware of.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  You make me happy when skies are gray.  You’ll never know dear how much I love you.  Please don’t take my sunshine away.

Cordoba was okay

In Argentina we had another short vacation for Easter.  This will be a little mundane.  I left with two gringos to Córdoba Province.  We arrived Thursday morning in the city of Córdoba and explored the city.  

Then we left to a city called Villa General Belgrano which was settled by Germans.  

From there we were seeking the mountains and left for La Cumbrecita, a small mountain town.  

We; however, didn’t know it was the Disneyland for residents of Buenos Aires.  The place was a sea of Porteños.  I left Buenos Aires to escape what I ended up finding.  I did also find a gorgeous city that made me forget I was in Argentina.  Before then my view of Argentina was substantially clouded by Buenos Aires there is more to this country than one city, imagine that.  Of course there were no available rooms in the two hostels in the city, nor the numerous hotels.  We sat outside one hostel pressure by the fading light to make a decision.  Where to stay?  We kind of decided (and knew this would happen) to just bare the cold and sleep in mountains somewhere, somehow.  The owner of the hostel noticed we didn’t leave after they told us there wasn’t vacancy and offered to show us a place 45 minutes in the mountains with a tent and two sleeping bags.  The place was divine, I felt like I was in Ireland or something equally as magical.  

The man from the hostel left us with the night sky, a broken tent, and two sleeping bags for three people.  We opened the two sleeping bags place one on top of the tent and the other on us.  Every time one person changed directions of our cuddling everyone else woke and shifted, it was beautifully mechanical.  I am here to say that we didn’t die of the cold; the towels must have saved us.  We did hikes and other things and then came back to Buenos Aires.

I eat tomatoes for snacks

Mechi occasionally lets me have dessert after a vegetable party on Indian bread or noodles with octopus.  To most people, or maybe just Americans, this means like chocolate, something sweet, something that will make me die young.  False, I get an orange.  That isn´t dessert you say?  Then go find a mom who thinks she´s overweight and meditates all day.  I love her.

I like to know what my friends are writing about Buenos Aires (good, right? Usually not) so I occasionally do the major disservice to my eyes to read about every mundane moment.  I have since realized that if you too want that disservice then you should find a new friend. 

After Arabic class today I was walking and decided to think.  I was thinking about specialization and development.  That is to say people learn a basic language then they learn a technical language which is the basis for their financial lives and as an unfortunate result 75% of their life.  Historically, the typical American learned two languages, conversational English and then lumberjack, glass maker, train conductor, etc.  Some even spoke several languages, construction, management, and conversational English.  These people usually were paid more (should they effectively utilize their language competencies).  But I think speaking more than one language doesn´t exclusively equate to more money (which isn´t always true and should not be the motivational factor) but instead personal development, diversification, and maximum utilization of our capacity to learn.  I want to learn more languages.  Beyond my aspirations for conversational languages, I think I would like to learn leadership, international policymaking, and US law.  Just like some people speak baseball or sewing I think I would like to speak triathlon and work as hard as my inspirational mommy.  Perhaps a dash of other languages but for now this should do.

Do I ever do anything?

This is for mommy who is concerned I only party.  As you can see I do other things!!  

Cultural/Language Mishaps in Chile

In Chile, men don´t usually kiss each other, unlike Argentina. When I arrived in Santiago I went to see Sowmya and met her home-stay father, whom I immediately kissed.

I met a girl named Toti, and was attempting to repeat her name, but instead said torti-which means dyke.

I was at dinner (once) with Sowmya´s family and was asking if one of Sowmya´s friends was spoiled, mimada, but instead said mamada, blow job.

Not Boulder.

I think I had an experience. I was walking home at 5:00am after going to some clubs with some Argentine friends when I saw a lady in the distance. Normally, this would be inconsequential and I didn’t think anything of it. When she reached me she nonchalantly asked for a cigarette, I responded I didn’t have one and began to resume walking when she then said she had a question I half stopped, and told her to ask me. Except I didn’t mean with her body. She asked, “Would you like to go to a more private place?” And swiftly grabbed me. I pushed her away and said no like twenty thousand times. Not Boulder.

My first class in the most famous private institution in Buenos Aires, Pontificia Universidad Católica Argentina, an Administration capstone course, was last week. The students are generally middle to upper class and a bit more pompous and/or conservative, completely different than in the public equivalent, the Universidad de Buenos Aires. At the beginning of the lecture the professor was talking about business stakeholders and asked for the class to share the three largest stakeholders in a business, I said the environment and he was like uhhhhhh. Not Boulder.

When I first arrived in Buenos Aires, just over a month ago (w0w) I went to see the famous cemetery in Recoleta.






Unlike any cemetery I have ever seen this was like a town, but of dead people and maintained by felines.




The grandiose nature of some of the mausoleums is breathtaking.


Before I entered with my friend Alex, a man was talking to us about the bad spirits present in a cemetery and recommended not entering or if we were to at least buy his CD with mantras to cleanse our dirtied and sexed souls.


 Not Boulder.

Two weeks ago a group of 87 gringos and I went approximately 90 minutes away from the city to San Antonio de Areco where we enjoyed the Argentine country life. The gauchos, Argentine cowboys, performed four times.


The first performance was a rather phallic game, the gaucho has to gallop to a small loop marked with a red ribbon and use his small stick to remove the red ribbon loop from another device.


The second was like rugby on horses. The gauchos would often drop the ball and then have a tugging contest which was hot.


Third, if you remember playing musical chairs I’m sure you can recall the excitement and inherent danger. Now add horses.


Finally, and the most disturbing was a man’s affection for his horse. Call it love or call it bestiality.


I don’t know how I managed to get so many pictures when I was trying so hard to keep the nervous laughter in.
Not Boulder.

Other lessons

1)      Don’t lick the polls in the Subte

Today I saw a man in a suit and tie, classy right? Except not.  He was about to exit the Subte when I noticed him picking his nose, either oblivious or indifferent to my grotesque expression he continued vigorously.  After extracting whatever was up there he wiped his lips back and forth and then began massaging them for more than a couple seconds.  I couldn’t keep watching, my discomfort was mounting and then overwhelming, I looked away; but I curiously looked back only to watch him place his hand on a poll.

2)      Don’t kiss Catalina

My homestay family has two dogs, Catalina (Cata) and Manuel (Mani).  More or less I take them to the park daily where they run free and Cata attacks poor Mani (who is also a wussy puff).  Both really enjoy eating the trash along the sidewalk but I usually can prevent them.  Once lose I keep one eye on the them to make sure they don’t harass another dog or person.  I however, didn’t see Cata for moment so I called her over.  She ran around a bush to my open arms and prepared to give me kisses when I realized something was awfully wrong.  Her breath smelt like real shit, not just normal gross dog breath.  Sure enough, poop lined both sides of her mouth.

 

Catalina and Manuel

3)      Don’t underestimate the UBA

I am taking one class, a seminar on AIDS,  this semester at the Universidad de Buenos Aires, the largest public institution in Argentina, best of all it’s free for Argentines.  When I first arrived to the building I wasn’t sure I was in the right place, it looked more like an arts and crafts place for underprivileged kids.  But through the urban stains I realized it is actually a neat place.  That is until I knew what was going to happen.  My professor showed up 20mins late, no worries, that’s typical; then we started the lesson and some girl asked to come in.  She tried to recruit us for the socialist movement in the school.  This place was no longer neat but decidedly amazing!  Then my professor explained how condoms can break when they are applied orally and removed a wooden dildo from his backpack with a condom and asked if anyone was interested in demonstrating.  So he apparently wasn’t referring to orally applying the condom.

Lessons, Updates, and Facts

    Petrol costs $16USD/gallon

·         For 28 cents I can travel 32.5 miles in the Subte (Metro)

·         The University of Buenos Aires is free to Argentines and has the most Nobel laureates of all Spanish speaking universities

·         Everyone throws their trash on the curb between 8-9pm and then young boys or families go through everything before the dump trucks arrive around midnight

·         Walking two dogs makes people think I’m a local and thus ask for directions

·         Ketchup, Mustard, Milk, Yogurt, etc. all come in plastic bags.

·         I actually blend in because of the heavy European influences

·         I have to wash my own dishes

·         Nobody has Vibrams but everyone wants to touch them

·         The yellow light flashes after the red to indicate the light will soon change to green

·         Cats protect the dead in the cemetery in Recoleta

·         People don’t often graffiti expletives but instead messages of love or politics

·         I prefer the energy here but the beauty in Boulder

·         I don’t have as many clothes

·         I struggle to remember words in English

·         I want to go to Patagonia

·         Some classes start tomorrow and the rest on Monday

·         I will be taking three direct enrollment courses, one grammar course through the study abroad intuition, and service learning I would like to do with the Madres de Plaza de Mayo (las madres de los desaparecidos)

·         They don’t have peanut butter but instead dulce de leche…it’s a bit sweet for a substitute but it works

·         Dogs poop and pee on the sidewalks regularly

Palermo

Herro Guys,

My hostel days are over (for now) and I currently live in a posh neighborhood, Palermo, a little north of the city proper.  When my homestay mom, Mechi, picked me up we had to take a taxi from the hotel because the only car they have is a motorcycle which wouldn´t have been able to carry my luggage efficiently.  Inside the taxi we began chatting and like any Argentine, she has heard of California and New York.  I was explaining the states between Colorado and California, Nevada and Utah when Mechi said, “Oh, Utah is filled with Mormons.”  I began my sentence, “Or rather Utah is…” then the taxi driver raised his hand, but I continued, “Filled with idiots.”  Then he declared that he is a Mormon.  Oops.  He didn´t really talk for the rest of the ride.

The house is most comparable to a town home, maybe?  There are three levels and a terrace on the roof but it´s connected to other houses on each side.  The second level really only is my room which is nice.  Unfortunately there isn´t a place to hang my shirts, maybe I can figure something out. 

We have been doing orientation activities for the past couple days and for the next week or so we will continue bonding.  I definitely don´t want to bond with some of these people.  Nonetheless, I have found some really nice and intelligent friends.  After several written exams and an oral exam I have been placed in the most advanced level.  During my meeting today I will meet the other Post Advanced Spanish II students and we will all judge each other as if we were at a beauty pageant.  There are 81 students and I´m curious how many will join me as the elite.  Perhaps that sounds too pretentious.

I miss Syndri, the mountains, Boulder, my friends, my family, and being able to understand everything.  Nonetheless, I have two new dogs, Manuel and Catalina, endless streets of buildings, Palermo, new friends, Mechi and Max, and to work hard to keep practicing and improve my fluency.  It´s a nice change, I think I want to go to Stockholm. 

Bye friends ):

It seems I have forgotten you.

            Since our last date many of come and gone.  Last night was a pseudo going away party for many of our friends.  Russia, Colombia (2), Chile (5), Sweden, Norway, Brasil (3), Germany (2), and Israel all left.  England/Brasil leaves tomorrow (he’s a mix).  We grilled hamburgers and smashed beers while enjoying our last night together.  Some had been here for almost a month and others only a couple days but we loved them all.  Now we are left with a fat Chilean family, many awkward old people (who apparently don’t know this is hostel because they keep complaining about the noise), and a couple new cool people.  Three chicanas from California, a Swedish boy, and another Brit just showed up; I’m pleased with the latter two, but I prefer Mexican girls to chicanas.  Still not as fun but soon I will be leaving the party house to live with Máximo (Max, 32 marketing researcher for a Publishing company) and Mercedes (Mechi, 38 free lance graphic designer) who will be my Argentine family.  I am very excited to live with two very young, artful, and beautiful people.  Perhaps I can take their two dogs to the park, but I won’t rival any other dog sitters who will instead have about 8-15 dogs with them, what a sight (see FB picture for reference). 

            I won’t bore you with banal tourist expeditions that were nothing but touristy.  

Quilmes

Yesterday is really hazy, I don't really remember except I made new friends the night before and we hung out again.  I took Advil and I feel a little better.  Apparently the whole time I've been here everyone has been partying on the fourth level terrace and I didn't know till the older German mentioned something to the younger German and me.  We climbed the stairs together and emerged side by ostensibly that I was trying to shag the younger German.  Three Canadian girls who don't speak Spanish were trying to teach everyone King's Cup and were 35% successful with rules transfer and 100% successful getting people drunk.  I met a lot of Chileans and Brazilians I didn't know before, they are cool people and definitely DTP.

I am continually amazed by the amount of people just going from country to country, hostel to hostel for months, some before college and some after.  Maybe my first act as a Law School graduate should be 9month long hostel-bouncing trip.  Sounds rewarding but I don’t think that would help pay off loans.  I will find a way! 

Running around

I decided to actually locate the hill that last night led me to the slums.  It's called Parque Lezama and I was actually really close.  The man's name was Pedro de Mendoza and the year was 1536.  I decided since it was light to visit Boca again.  I have a lot more fun exploring the city and following people than going to museums, which aren't free...  But there are limits to my expeditions; today I was stopped by two men who told me not to continue because it was too dangerous.  When has that ever happened to you?  I found it excitingly different and appreciated.  I turned back and went home.

Whenever I don't quite know what to do or have a spare hour I enjoy walking back to the first street I found and enjoying the lively atmosphere.  

            As to be expected in hostels, people come and go.  Today three Canadian girls came.  I was surprised by all the guys I have never seen before asking them to drink and do other seemingly innocuous activities although we all know better.  Maybe I should wear a dress.  Tomorrow the younger German girl is going to send me a message whether I should change hostels or not.  I think it would be exciting to try a different one that isn't far away and the same cheap price of 10USD/day.

I have been thinking about running for the past two days but wanted to make sure I had at least some general idea of where I lived in relation to other places.  I took the leap today and went running.  I was just going to be modest and wear my short running shorts with my shoes.  I think I left one of my orthodics at home and perhaps the shorts too.  Instead I wore my two piece tri suit, I know kind of obnoxious, and my Vibrams.  I actually really enjoyed running in Vibrams for the first time and I could tell the locals did too, you're welcome.  I also wore sun glasses so I couldn't be easily identified.  But that might have been for naught because I was the only person running, and the only person I have seen thus far running through downtown Buenos Aires (there are a couple people I've seen running in Puerto Madero). 

That is all.

Public Transportation

I didn’t actually go to bed pacified by sweat after eating a fruit bar.  I decided to live or something like that and autoschediastically went on an adventure to the hill famed to be the location where some guy during some year first declared this area as Buenos Aires.  I didn’t find the hill but instead some of the poorest neighborhoods in Buenos Aires, specifically Boca.  However, I was never assaulted or bothered.  Which perhaps is one of the biggest differences between Denver and Buenos Aires; in Buenos Aires the people are very kind and helpful-even the less privileged.  Whereas in Denver I would have been harassed excessively in the comparable neighborhoods by local hooligans.  So I began looking for a taxi to save me.  I would see one on the other side of the road and then cross hoping more would be following then one would be on the other side of the road, it was really depressing for me.  Finally one saw me flapping my arms and jumping from across the street.

            I decided to sleep in a little because I had a long day of flying with pubescent girls, exploring a colorful city, and getting lost in dark barrios.  When I woke up one of the German girls asked me what I was going to do knowing of my little success last night.  I told her I would open my tourist book and pick something.  Instead she recommended going to Tigre and Delta, 28 kilometres north of the city.

            I struggled to find the Subte (Metro) initially as I have yet to get a map of the city besides the small ones I examine in my tourist book before leaving.  That said, I get lost frequently but that’s how I can learn how to get around the city.  Finally I took the Subte to Retiro and then took a train to Mitre then another train to Tigre.  I paid 10USD and toured Delta on boat which was pretty fun but not super exciting.  I did learn something about public transportation which is apparently not exclusive to Buenos Aires but I had never seen, people will place socks, candy, mirrors, stories of their dying kids, or valentines on your lap walk away and then collect payment or the item.  Also, it is common to sing or in some other way perform on the trains and Subte and then expect compensation.  I compensated nobody.

            I went out for a drink with one of my German roommates.  I had to tell her I´m gay to lure her out though; straight guys should try it, 100% success rate of making girls divulge everything.  I definitely prefer dark beer to lighter.

            All of the above paragraphs begin with “I” and I feel selfish.

 The receptionist must have known I am gay because all four of my roommates are girls, and we get on splendidly.  The other three are Italian, Spanish, and another German.  The Italian has been to this hostel four times, the Spanish just arrived and is trying to find a friend, and the other German is older and learning the Tango.  The younger one (with whom I had a beer but explained I wasn´t trying to pick her up) and I went to look at another hostel because although this one is nice it lacks the homely feeling she recounted to me of her past 10 months in hostels all over the world.  Perhaps if she moves there tomorrow and likes it I will follow.    

A lot of things here are pretty cheap like taking the Subte for miles costs only 23 cents.  I managed to buy two apples and a plum for 53 cents.  Maybe I can buy an animal next; because apparently all of Buenos Aires at 22:00 is walking their dog.  Or in the case of a lady I saw, 18.  I couldn´t believe how quickly the dogs attacked the trash on the curbs and then proceeded to get approval from their owner which she liberally distributed.  Ew. 

The Start of Something Big

I left Denver early yesterday afternoon for what I hoped to be an amazing experience in all respects.  Before reaching the Paris of South America I had a short layover in my favorite state, Texas.  Backstreet Boys played in my ears to keep the crazies away.  Luckily I didn’t need to interact with too many Jesus loving, football throwing, McDonald’s eating, and truck driving lunatics.  I did instead deal with a group of 50 adolescent girls returning to Cristina.  Despite the shrill yelling, group clapping, and persistent movement they weren’t too obnoxious. 

After a nearly ten hour flight of the man next to me trying to rest his 50 year old balding head on my 21 year old shoulder I was welcomed by the lush green fluffs of life in Ezeiza and the urban etches on the horizon, Buenos Aires. 

Because I accidentally arrived 10 days before my orientation (oops) I needed to manage on my own with the vague directions I was emailed.  After exchanging my dollars for pesos I secured a bus trip to Retiro once the employees inspected my Vibrams and asked if I would give them away; safe to say I am still wearing my pieces of Boulder.  Then I ordered a taxi which was only about 7USD to my hostel in San Telmo (the Buenos Aires neighborhood most associated with the Tango).  Because I arrived at noon and the check-in was not till two the receptionist directed me to the computer lab, which is actually three mismatched computers in a hall; but they still work considerably well and I am pleased.  I managed to be moderately productive, making sure “Qué carajo” actually does mean “What the Hell” and contributing to Zuckerberg’s empire.  After a quick and refreshingly cold shower I hit the cobble stone and began exploring my future home. 

Of course I didn’t really know where I was going but I just walked towards the masses and ultimately located a road of shops, street vendors, and performers that would make (Pearl St. in Boulder + 16^th St. in Denver) * 500 shame in comparison.  I kept walking till I found Plaza de Mayo and La Casa Rosada both of which were stunning. 

I decided I should probably stop fasting and eat lest I become as dry as Ben Stein.  As such, I consciously stumbled in a mall that reminded me of Union Station in DC.  I had some sandwich on some table watching some tennis match trying not to be too obvious as I observed the locals as if I were Jane Goodall in Tanzania.

Later I bought Borges, El Idioma de los Argentinos (hopefully not too trite) and began reading next to the dique that leads to the Río de Plata in Buenos Aires’ newest neighborhood, Puerto Madero.  Around me old gays rollerbladed and stray dogs searched for food, I was only interested in the latter.

I will have a Nature Valley bar and the beads of sweat will pacify me to dreamland.
Also, the men are pretty hairy but some are definitely ok.