Siesta

Buenos Aires

ZZzzzzz

Ok, cliche I know, but it appropriately describes how I feel at this moment. It's 11 in the morning, and I got up in time to grab the free coffee and "medialunas" (delicious little croissants). Alex is still passed out in the room, and Josh is wandering around in a bit of a daze (although I think he is at least showered, which is a threshold I have yet to reach). The day awaits!

I'm getting ahead of myself though. The night before last, Josh and I slept for six hours. We ate breakfast with an attractive Canadian girl, and were interrupted by Alex entering in full Gallo fashion. Totally disregarding the check-in process, he immediately started in on the pastries and coffee that were scattered on the table. The staff were a bit startled, but I explained that we had already paid for him, and they seemed satisfied.

Later we went to go buy cell phones. I insisted that we find a Movistar store that looked legitimate, and good thing too because buying a new phone in Argentina is apparently a mix of super-efficiency and super-chaos. Imagine walking into a huge, modern looking store with multiple levels. Unmarked sales people rove about, lines of customers seem to stretch forever en route to ambiguous services, and rows of desks extend into the distance with employees who appear to be giving advice on how to invest savings. What you don't know is that every act of customer service, every operation, every sale is orchestrated by this guy with spiked hair who is entering names of customers into a tiny PDA. It took us a while realize this, but once we did we entered a whirlwind process in which we told them what we wanted and were wisked without much consultation into a flurry of processes that eventually culminated in our having prepaid, international phones for about $65. At one point Alex got seperated from us, but we eventually escaped together with our Movistar bags and new numbers and phones feeling pretty productive, if a little bewildered.

After this we went to the much-touted Museo de las Artes Decorativas. What this ended up being was a house that was created in the 18th century for a very wealthy, well-connected family. It had a smoking room, a dark, comfy office with false doors, and a dining room which used to have the food come down of the ceiling. We had a tour in Spanish, and Alex and I were happy to understand most of it. Apparently the family lost the house during one of the big economic crises that have occured recently, and they gave it up so long as it became a museum. This is one of many points in which I have self-satisfiedly declared the need for a country to have good macroeconomists.

After our sightseeing, we took a two hour Siesta in preparation for a big night out, and then went out to the Palermo neighborhood for dinner. We had a muy bueno italian meal for less-than-bertuccis prices, and then headed to what we thought was the excellent bar scene in town. Wrong. Everybody was sitting down, meaning that there was no talking to anybody. In fact, at one point we stood at the bar and were asked to sit down. We finally got into a taxi and asked him to bring us to a club, preferably one where we could meet women (but not prostitutes or gay men).

The club was just nuts. We tried talking to several people, and many of them were friendly, but apparently none were in the mood to dance with a few awkward Americanos with sneakers and wrinkled shirts. Basically it amounted to being shoved around for hours, overpaying for drinks, and moving from perch to perch looking for that right group of girls who would just love to talk to us (I'm increasingly convinced that such a thing is the stuff of legends, although I'll try wearing contacts next time). Despite what sounds like a miserable experience on paper, it was an absolute blast, and I don't think we ended up going home until 6 am. Anyway, this explains why I'm a wreck right now, but I'm convinced that a little agua sin gas and a good shower will get me ready for the street with colorful houses, or whatever must-do we're going to do today.

Mis amigos in front of the widest street in the world, Avenida 9 de Julio.