Buenos Aires - Tuesday

Tuesday was date day!

Given that D and I were not at our relationship high when we departed for Buenos Aires, I thought it was very important that we have quality alone time.

Plus, I dig alone time. I am a fan. I am a fan of couples spending time with other people, with other couples, alone with one another, and alone as individuals.

So. I declared, on Monday, that I wanted to have a date day with D on Tuesday. The Married People were like "What?" I explained that D and I have to determine whether we like each other or not, and therefore need to go on dates to do so. They said "But we'll meet for dinner?" and I said "That will depend on how the date goes."

D decided that rather than wandering around aimlessly for food in a city that is famous for its good food, we would, from henceforth onward, have specific food destinations. Armed with the guidebook, D found a lunch destination for us in Palermo Hollywood that supposedly had a cool vibe and "really good meat."

He was very excited. I was excited to see him excited, so I didn't worry about what I would eat.

When we arrived at the restaurant, we were shocked by its decor. It wasn't extravagant or at all impressive like the guidebook had suggested. We decided to stay, though, because there didn't seem to be anywhere else to eat.

Five minutes after sitting down, D said "Oh no. I think we're supposed to be over there." We looked out the window and saw, across the street, another restaurant with the same exact name. "Should we leave?" I asked. "No. No. No, they're probably the same, right? Like the font. It looks the same, right?" It did look the same, but why would there be two identical restaurants across the street from one another?

D ordered what he thought would be three small cuts of meat.

When it arrived, we were horrified that it was, like, two large pieces each of three different cuts of meat:



It was funny, and again, not that much of a travesty given that it only cost something like 18 pesos.

There were three people at the table behind us and they split the same dish that he'd ordered for himself.

This meal was interesting because it was the only restaurant that served butter with the bread. The breads in Buenos Aires were awesome - varied, soft, fresh, yum. And they would always be served with some sort of spread - like a cheese spread with mystery ingredients, or something creamy. I miss the spreads already. Sigh.

I got cheese ravioli with a tomato cream sauce and halfway through the meal got really sick. I don't know if it was something I ate or sharing the table with a pile of meat that made me sick. Either way, I ate about three raviolis and then had to stop.

We then walked to a gallery that we'd passed in the cab. It sucked, so we hopped in another cab and headed to a big park where we'd hoped to check out this planeterium:



Unfortunately we did not, because there were about 10 million little kids running around outside it. These kids, however, were cute because they were fishing and were not being obnoxious:



Instead of going to the planetarium, we decided to go to the MALBA. We walked over but, alas, it was closed for no apparent reason. No explanation. Just closed.

Disappointed, we headed back to the hotel to come up with Plan B.

Throughout our trip, D would stop and buy random candy that he wasn't sure he'd like or not. Here is some candy:



I think on this particular day he bought some disgusting mints. Despite their tasting heinous, however, they did miraculous things for breath.

D decided to go for a run while I decided to figure out how to get to Colonia in Uruguay for our day trip the following day.

Yay alone time!

The website for the company that operates the boat to Uruguay was being difficult. It would not load. At all. I tried to find alternate means to get there, but it was no use. I tried everything. While I was looking for this, M and A appeared in the internet room and declared "Our bags have apparently been delivered to us, but they are not here!"

They'd decided to have their bags shipped to them. A's mother sent them to the hotel.

They were, however, not at the hotel.

While M helped me to figure out the Colonia thing, A tracked down the package and figured out that the clothes were at Customs. At the airport. And it was very confusing what with the not speaking of Spanish.

A decided to go to the airport right then, so as to get the clothes as soon as possible and not have to worry about them for a moment longer.

They left and suddenly the website for the boat company was working. But, it seemed either really expensive or would take forever to get to Colonia. Oh well.

D returned and we decided to go to this collection of galleries in Recoleta that had been closed the day before when we tried to go there.

It was ok.

There were a couple standouts:



Including this artist who I loved but whose name, I, of course, forgot instantly. Does this look familiar to anyone?



While we were there D said "I really have to take an art appreciation class or something. I know nothing."

If only he knew how little the rest of us know.

We walked around Recoleta - mainly the top of the Design Center - after the galleries. There were no people. It was a quiet and clear night. Kind of spooky. It would have been extremely romantic had it not been cold, and had we not been so tired.



We then walked around aimlessly looking for a restaurant, yet again. We encountered a row of theme restaurants, including an Indiana Jones themed restaurant. There was a camel statue outside. I think the restaurant was shaped like a pyramid. They served Indiana Jones Ice Cream and other equally bizarre novelties.

As we headed home, I realized I didn't have any money left, so we went here:



Apparently Bank Boston still exists!!! Who knew? And apparently it rocks in Argentina, because there were Bank Bostons everywhere.

We headed back to the hotel without having found a restaurant, and on the way talked to M and A, who didn't have their clothes. Customs was closed when they got to the airport. They went all that way for no reason. They were most likely irritable, as were we from having not found a restaurant, so we decided to eat at the hotel restaurant.

D, who has an amazing sense of direction, continually said, in all seriousness "Oh! This looks like a nice restaurant... we should eat here some time" every time we passed by the hotel restaurant from the outside.

Clearly he knew where the hotel was, and knew that we were basically outside it, but he couldn't quite comprehend that the fancy restaurant he was looking at was the hotel. Cute.

I ordered a Cosmopolitan again at dinner, only this time the waitress clearly had no idea what I was talking about. I was embarrassed, but couldn't explain to her what I was talking about since, in case you were wondering, I don't speak Spanish! D explained to her that it was a drink.

It was taking forever for the Cosmo to arrive, and M said "I bet they're looking it up."

When the waitress brought wine for the others and said "The Cosmo will take 15 minutes" M said "They're totally looking it up."

When it arrived, M said "They definitely had to look it up!" because it wasn't really a Cosmo. It was more of a Grape Crush (which is actually my favoritest drink that I never order because its sort of an embarassing favorite drink), or liquid jolly rancher. Sweet and deadly.

There was much talk of house-buying at dinner, which stressed me out because I don't want nor do I have any intention of buying a house in the near future. This makes me anxious because D apparently does have the intention of buying a house in the near future, which is going to put much stress on the relationship. I was mostly silent and thinking "Mountains of paperwork and all money gone for 400 square feet... so... very... unappealing..."

We were going to go for ice cream again but I didn't want to. I just wasn't into it. We decided to order desserts off of the menu, and were all hoping that the mystery chocolate dessert was actually a Chocolate Volcano. Molten chocolate. Yes. D and I had attempted to order one at the French restaurant a few days prior but didn't because it was going to take forever for them to make it. We'd been craving it since.

When the waitress explained the mystery chocolate dessert everyone was very excited to hear her say "molten chocolate." YES! We ordered three of them for the table.

When they arrived, there was no molten chocolate to be seen.

It was basically chocolate cake. Still good, but a disappointment since we'd psyched ourselves up en masse for molten chocolate.

It is interesting that we had a group auditory hallucination. I guess we just really wanted molten chocolate.

We decided not to go to Colonia the following day, and all retired to bed. I think Evita was on that night, which made me far too happy for obvious reasons.

A Few Observations...

... about the people of Buenos Aires:

1. Good looking.

2. Really good looking.

3. Actually, come to think of it, obscenely good looking.

D and I were discussing this, and D said "Seriously. Look around. Do you really think that there are more good looking people here than there are in NYC?"

There probably aren't more good looking people in Buenos Aires than there are in New York. I think, rather, its a matter of taste. My taste happens to border on darker, European-looking people. Dare I say... Italian looking people. Throw in some Spanish and DAMN. From the moment we got on the plane in NYC I noticed the men. I couldn't stop looking.

And the women! Wow.

I suppose if you like the blonde or tall aesthetic, you're out of luck.

But I was quite satisfied with the eye candy.

P's entire family is really good looking. There was a photo at his parents' house of his sister's wedding that looked like it was out of a magazine. His sister is gorgeous, and her husband is equally gorgeous. Their baby could quite possibly be the cutest baby ever.

P's brother is also adorable. And his girlfriend is, well, gorgeous. At the wedding, M leaned over and said "Imagine what their babies would look like!" and I couldn't even handle the thought.

P himself is adorable as well.

4. Another thing that pleases me about the people of Buenos Aires is the frequency of the moustache! Yes! Moustaches are apparently "in" in Buenos Aires, which gives me great satisfcation on both ironic and actual levels. I think 70% of the cab drivers we had sported fabulous moustaches. But, the most fabulous moustache of all belonged to P's father:



5. Everyone was so very nice. They were friendly and chatty and patient and cute.

6. Affectionate! I love kissing strangers. My pet love is "Hello, my name is Leah Lar, pleased to meet you!" kiss on the cheek.

That is all.

For now.

Heat Wave

It's another heat wave in New York City.

I always think of "Do The Right Thing" when it gets this hot in the city. I think of ice cubes and commentary and chaos. Such an amazing film.

When I walked out of my apartment this morning, I walked into the hallway of my building and was like "Dear god its HOT OUT HERE." It was so very hot. Stifling. Like standing in a bowl of warm soup.

I walked down the stairs, sweating just from existing. I walked outside, expecting to feel a bit of relief. No. It was even more hot outside.

Ridiculous.

At one of the subway stops this morning, the conductor announced "This is 14th Street... and for all of you lovely people who are getting off at 14th Street, good luck to you out there! It's hot out, but please do not worry - it is supposed to get cooler. Relief is on the way. Have a great day."

For some reason that makes the weather more tolerable.

This being said, I was sad that the conductor didn't wish me luck or a great day when I got off at Spring Street.

It was nice, though, to hear an announcement that had nothing to do with being aware of suspicious activities. There is now constant discussion about terrorism on subways and bag checks and invasions of privacy. We have become a society of paranoia and negativity.

It's refreshing to hear something light and happy.

Thank you, C line conductor, for keepin' it real.

Lord of the Flies

There is a fly in my room.

It is driving me nuts. I know I have no chance against it so I just have to let it fly around and annoy me.

I was happy to find that there were zero cockroaches in my apartment after my return from Buenos Aires. Sweet!

There are, however, fruit flies. Which is weird considering there is zero food here.

And there is also this Big Brother Fly, which keeps flying in front of my face and keeps brushing against my legs.

If it wasn't 80 million degrees I'd hide under my blankets.

Remember how I said I was happy to be back in warm weather? I take it back. 95 degrees is just not cool under any circumstances.

I am irritated right now. D is out with a friend of his from out of town and has been all "I want you to meet him! We must figure out a way for you to meet him!" and then called at 8:00 and said "I don't know what we're doing... we've just been hanging out and can't make a decision... we're going to go to the Knitting Factory Bar and will figure out what to do from there..." and then again at 9:00 and said "We still don't know what we're doing... we're just sitting here talking so we probably won't do anything so you should just do whatever you were going to do."

Right.

Because what I was going to do was wait around and be on call to meet the friend, but apparently I am invited only if the plan involves something other than sitting around and talking and having so much fun that they decide not to do anything else.

I don't get it.

I just don't get it.

I hate that I have to not be invited to things, and then have to be awoken from sleep so he can stay here while his friend stays at his apartment. I hate that the third friend's fiance met up with them. How did she manage to get a concrete invite?

I hate people.

And flies.

But! In exciting news, with my "time to do whatever I was going to do" I revisited some old My Mundane Life in Song songs that I never finished because I moved to New York City. So get ready, readers, for some totally bizarre songs from last summer. I'm pretty pysched, actually, to finish them. Luckily I recorded the music for them and never finished vocals since recording vocals is a challenge with roommates. Since I am now sans keyboard I can't do music like this anymore, so its a treat to get to do something synthy, even if its old.

YEAH!

So yes. Next time I am all pathetic and waiting around for my boyfriend to de-invite me to things without actually informing me I will be able to post some new (old) songs!

Oh. He is here. I suppose I should talk to him. Except that he's drunk. Awshummmmm.

Until tomorrow.....

Buenos Aires - Monday - aka "11 kilos!"

We woke up early on Monday morning in order to guarantee us a spot in the 11am tour of Teatro Colon, one of the premier opera houses in the world. We arrived at 10:30 am, and once we figured out how to actually get into the theater, we were all set.



We were only allowed to take photos in the lobby, which was ornate and gorgeous. They had old instruments and costume pieces on display:



The tour was awesome! We got to walk underneath the theater and look into the costume, wig and shoe shops. We also saw the inside of the theater, as well as some practice spaces. When we left the tour, there was a waitress singing opera in the cafe in the theater. It was lovely.



Afterwards, we walked out and took photos of the theater. Then we realized that we were taking pictures of the back of the theater. It was hard to tell. For something so extravagant on the inside, its rather confusing on the outside.

We walked to the front of the theater and regrouped. We all took photos because the day was so lovely.



Here is everyone trying to figure out where we are and what we should do next:



We decided to see the infamous obelisk up close and personal because it was nearby:



We then went to lunch at a fairly lame place where I didn't get an omelette even though that's what I ordered (readers please note: eggs were difficult in Buenos Aires as you will read more about. As D said "What have we learned? Buenos Aires does not know how to do eggs.").

We then headed to a famous cemetary in Recoleta. I don't know what it's called. All I know is that its extremely lavish and that many famous and rich people from Argentina are buried within it. For example - Eva Peron. Also various dignitaries and political and military figures. I'm not sure who, specifically, as we were not there during a time tours were being given in English.



The graves ranged from extremely lavish:



To rather modest:



There were ones like this (drawers):



Others were very ornate:



Some were modern (I think this one was from the 80's - the style really stood out):



The cemetary was like a maze. It was easy to get lost. It was a gorgeous day and an awesome experience, although it was sort of a deranged thing to be doing. Some of the tombs are not well kept. In one - I can't remember if it had bars or glass - the casket had opened and I could actually see bones inside. In others there were photographs of the dead. Still in others you could see child-sized coffins. It was beautiful yet extremely unsettling.









After the cemetary we walked around Recoleta for a bit:



We then stopped at a cafe in the Design Center, where we received a call from N and P inviting us out to dinner. Dinner would be at a secret location. We were excited, as N and P would not disappoint, and all headed back to the hotel to regroup.

N and P met us at 10:00 and announced that we would be going to a restaurant in Palermo Viejo.

N, P, M and A piled into P's car, while D, E, B and I hopped in a cab.

Most of my time in Buenos Aires was spent thinking "Man. I wish I knew Spanish. I should have learned Spanish. Is it possible for me to suck any more than I do and to have been any less prepared for this trip? I don't know a word of Spanish! I am a typical American tourist! I made no effort! I am a nuisance to D! He must want to kill me! He must want to kill all of us!"

Consequently I also spent a lot of time in the back seats of cabs listening to D talk to cab drivers in Spanish. Sometimes he was good about telling me what they were talking about, but most of the time he just talked for the entirety of the ride without informing me of what was going on. I don't blame him.

If unfortunately gave me time to be paranoid and to invent the conversations they were having.

Cab Driver: So, where are you from?

D: New York City.

Cab Driver: Who's that?

D: My girlfriend.

Cab Driver: She can't understand Spanish?

D: Not a word.

Cab Driver: Heh. Sucks to be you, kid! How annoying that must be!

D: Tell me about it. I have to drag her unprepared ass around with me everywhere I go. She'd be lost without me!

Cab Driver: True that. You are a good American. Not like her. She's like all of the rest of them. She feels entitled.

Yeah. That's what I was thinking everytime I heard "Blah blah blah blah Neuvo York blah blah blah blah amiga blah blah blah blah blah."

This particular cab ride was awesome, though, because D was seated in the front being really chatty with the cab driver.

They talked for about 10 minutes while E, B and I had our own conversation in the back seat.

Out of nowhere, D turned around, enthusiastically, with a look of pure excitement consuming his face and flashed us a Polaroid photo of a bunny and announced

"11 KILOS!"

Ummm.

"Oh..." we all said, unsure of how to respond.

The three of us exchanged confused glances in the backseat as I laughed to myself at D's enthusiasm. I love when he gets like that. The smallest thing can make him so very excited.

We returned to our convesation and were interrupted again by D who showed us another photo and declared "THIS ONE IS 12 KILOS!"

"Uh huh..." we all murmered.

B said "Do they have names?" but D didn't hear him because he was too busy talking to the cab driver about the rabbits.

D then turned around and declared "AND THIS ONE HAS BLACK EARS!" He was smiling ear to ear and could not contain himself.

"Oh... cute..." I said.

I don't know, folks, I just don't know. It was really cute and really bizarre.

We decided later on that the cab driver must sell the rabbits, which is why the weights are important.

But to us, sitting in the back, we just assumed, at first, that the dude carries photos of his pets around and shows them to all of his fares.

This is how it was to travel with D. We only got portions of information and had to infer the rest. I don't blame him. I wouldn't want to have to translate every single word to a bunch of people who didn't bother to learn Spanish. Absolutely not. I commend D for his patience and for tolerating us at all.

This being said, I was left assuming that people in Buenos Aires have pet rabbits the way people in the US have pet dogs and force photos of their pets upon anyone who's willing to look. And upon people who couldn't possibly care less. People in cabs are trapped, and therefore have to look at photos of large bunnies with ears that are different colors from their bodies.

Later on that night D explained to us that the cab driver raises huge rabbits and then apparently sells them to French tourists who will pay top dollar to have them cooked.

Right.

So they do not have names because they are not pets.

Right.

"11 kilos!"

Anyway, we were happy to learn that N and P were taking us to a tapas restaurant. N and P were extremely generous and patient with us during our stay in Buenos Aires. They took us out in high style, and always provided or gave us ideas for things to do.

I had some champagne earlier that night (even though I hate champagne). We ordered a bottle of Malbec but I was really dying for a fruity mixed drink. I think I was really craving fruit since my diet in Buenos Aires was less than optimal, but fruit flavored alcohol would have to suffice. P explained that drinks are called the same things in Buenos Aires as they are in the US, so I ordered a cosmpolitan that was quite potent. M also ordered a mixed drink and was drunk instantly. I had the mixed drink as well as a glass of wine and felt quite tipsy myself.

This is what our tables looked like in Buenos Aires:



Tons of empty glasses. Lots of beverages consumed.

The food was delicious, the company was fantastic, and we headed back to the hotel without having ice cream because we were all satisfied after dinner.

Buenos Aires - Sunday

D and I slept lots and slept in on Sunday morning. The others, who apparently did not sleep in (I don't understand!) met up with N and P to walk around La Boca while D and I started walking after we'd prepared ourselves for the day.

We ended up in Plaza de Mayo, which was apparently the original center of Buenos Aires:





We had a nice view of the Ubiquitous Obelisk (I kept orienting myself in the city based on where the obelisk was):





There was another monument that most likely has historical significance but I don't know what the significance is:





I loved this woman and desperately wanted her to start singing "Feed the birds... tuppence a bag...:"



We then headed towards San Telmo to meet the others for lunch. Some windows:



I like the contrast between the classic European architecture and the new and shiny buildings:



There were many art vendors on the streets of Buenos Aires. I really wanted to buy something, but couldn't decide on anything so, of course, ended up with nothing:



We ate lunch at a French restaurant, where I had one of my many Coca Colas in Buenos Aires:



Afterwards, we headed towards San Telmo to do some shopping.



We took a short detour to take a tour of an apartment that had been excavated and is apparently one of the oldest residences in Buenos Aires. It once housed slaves, once served as a tenement, and was apparently inhabited by some really rich family. A company bought it and started digging and now tours are given to illustrate the history of Buenos Aires. Our tour guide sort of sucked, but the building was interesting anyway:



We then walked towards an extremely crowded street/vendor fair in San Telmo where, again, we did not buy anything because there was too much going on: (but I really really really wanted a puppet!)















The roasted nuts in Buenos Aires are far superior to those found in New York City. They are candied and marvelous, and, according to M and A, actually taste as good as they smell:



After the fair we headed to Cafe Tortoni, a famous cafe where political figures from Buenos Aires and the rest of the world once (and still?) frequented:



I ate churros. Mmmm. I also ordered what I thought would be hot chocolate. It was called Chocolate. It was hot chocolate, but seriously - it was CHOCOLATE. It was just hot, melted, delicious, overwhelming chocolate. It is unfortunate that the currency is Argentina is so devalued. But, selfishly, it was nice for me because I got to eat all sorts of desserts I'd usually avoid due to cheapness. I'd never have stopped at a cafe in the middle of the afternoon for churros and hot chocolate in the US.

We then walked down the pedestrian walkway which, again, was sort of chaotic:





We ended up at Fancy Mall where I bought a pair of perfect shoes for the wedding. I have to admit that I was experiencing much distress regarding the sandals I'd brought, so I was relieved to find the exact shoes I'd fantasized about. M and A bought a copy of Harry Potter in English, and D bought a new suit for the wedding. He looked so handsome trying it on. I was very excited. Luckily he did not buy one of these hideous ties (note: teddy bears on the ties:



After Fancy Mall we headed back to the Bel Air Hotel and ended up eating dinner at a restaurant two doors down from our hotel. How we missed this the first night we will never know! M and I ordered crepes that turned out not to be very crepe-like, but we did not care, because we were starving and they were tasty anyway. We drank wine and chatted, and then went to bed early to prepare for our busy day on Monday.

Landing in Buenos Aires! - Saturday

The view of the sunrise from the plane was exquisite. I snapped a few photos and set my watch ahead.

Or so I thought. When we landed my watch was two hours behind Buenos Aires time. I said "Huh, wait, is Buenos Aires two hours ahead? I have no idea what's going on." No idea. I'm so sure I set it ahead one hour.

We went through customs without difficulty and were met by N and P. We'd been debating whether or not they'd be there, since no concrete plans to meet up had been established. We just assumed everything was taken care of. M said "If they don't meet us, we have no way of getting in touch with them. We don't even know where the wedding is. But they know where we are, so they can find us."

We stopped briefly and everyone but me had coffee of some sort while we waited for E and B to arrive. E and B are N's friends from graduate school. They arrived, delirious, and soon we were ready to head to the hotel. Except that M and A realized that their backpack was... MISSING!

Crisis. Major crisis. Thankfully P, who is from Buenos Aires and who therefore speaks Spanish, was the hero and led M and A around the airport until they found their backpack where they'd left it by the baggage claim. Literally. Right on the ground where we'd been standing, untouched. They weren't sure that's where it would be, but thankfully, it was there, along with the entirety of its pricey contents.

P drove us to the hotel where we quickly unpacked and showered.

N and P picked us up again and we went to Puerto Madero for lunch. Puerto Madero is on the water and is below Buenos Aires on the map we had, but is not actually south of Buenos Aires. We don't know. We think this could be a southern hemisphere thing.

We couldn't stop marvelling at its being winter in July. It was really, really cold.

We settled on a lovely Italian restaurant that served awesome bread and these hard pita type breads with cheese on top. Best thing ever. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

N and P dropped us off at the Buenos Aires Design Center after lunch. The Design Center is a mall full of stores selling modern furniture and home goods. Everything in this place suits my taste, which actually made me feel sort of trite. It's one thing when you find an isolated cool item for your home and people say "Where did you get that?" and you have a cool story. It's another thing when you're around hundreds of people with the same exact taste as you and when items aren't unique.

I took this photo in one of the stores before we got in trouble for taking photographs:



M, A, B, E, D and myself wandered around the Design Center for a bit and then walked over to a street/craft fair in the Recoleta neighborhood where our hotel was. We found all sorts of lovely things - jewelry, shoes, possible gifts to bring back for family and friends - but bought nothing because it was freezing and because we thought "We'll come back tomorrow!"

We went back to the hotel and napped? Or something? I don't know. The day is a blur.

I think D and I called E and B and went on a crusade to find dinner, but, as is customary with yours truly, our hotel was, of course, in a neighborhood with no restaurants.

None.

For example, when Sister and I were in San Francisco we often found ourselves wandering around, starving, desperate for food and unable to find a single place to eat.

Last summer, when RR came to NYC to help me find an apartment, the same thing happened. We literally wandered for an hour without finding a single restaurant (with hindsight I think we may have been on Lexington but I had no idea at the time) and ended up hailing a cab to take us to Little Italy, where I had a mental breakdown due to hunger and due to not wanting to live in a donut shaped abode.

D found a place in the guidebook which became our destination, but it was not there.

We wandered around aimlessly, starving, having no idea if we'd ever find anywhere to eat.

We finally found a Mexican place. We called A and M, who joined us for our first dinner in Buenos Aires. I had a marvelous peach margerita and slept for like 11 hours that night.

On the Way to Buenos Aires! - Friday

Ok...

I am going to quickly try to write about the trip, so pardon any grammatical or spelling errors. M - please feel free to add to this. I am so very tired and can't remember everything.

Nevertheless.....

D and I decided to take the Super Shuttle to JFK on Friday night. We'd had a minor argument about this. D was concerned about money and traffic. I was concerned about ease and the weight of my luggage. I said "I am calling a shuttle. You can join me or not. I can meet you at the airport if you would prefer that." He offered to carry my luggage and finally said "Well, I guess if you're taking a shuttle I'll come along."

The shuttle, of course, was late.

And then we hit traffic.

And then the driver got lost picking up the other passengers.

And then there was more traffic.

And irate passengers.

And D being in one of his rare bad moods.

I feared a grand "I told you so" but luckily it was foiled by the coincidence that the last passenger picked up by the shuttle was from Buenos Aires!

D was quickly distracted from his vile mood because he was able to speak Spanish and go over the map of Buenos Aires with a local. I had to look away as I was getting carsick in the back of the van. I listened, though, and made sure to remember the tips she offered. She said things like "Tango is for tourists" and "Palermo Viejo is like New York City... trendy... for people like you..." and "You must go to Tigre... it is like the Hamptons."

I couldn't get over the coincidence. Not only was she on our flight, but the two people in the front were also on the same flight to LA! What are the odds? About an hour after we were dropped off it occurred to me that the shuttle people probably arrange for people who are taking the same flights to be on the same shuttle so as to minimize drop offs. But I was really excited for a while.

We arrived at the airport with over two hours to spare. It was slightly awkward since we said goodbye to Valeria. D said "Should we hang out with her in the line!? And then we'll be on the plane with her!" "She probably wants to be alone," I said. He said "But I was hoping she'd invite us to her house in Buenos Aires!!"

I love D's faith in humanity. I wish I wasn't so cynical. I wish I could assume that strangers want to welcome me into their homes when they themselves haven't been home in weeks.

We met up with M and A, who had been at the airport for hours and who had forgotten a piece of their luggage in Worcester. There was much discussion of what should be done - ship the clothes? Buy new ones? Either way, I was envious of their packing savvy as they had packed comfortable clothes to change into on the plane. It never occurred to me to bring shamrock patterned pajama bottoms for the flight. Oh well.

The flight did not feel like 10.5 hours.

I woke up a couple of times during my occasional sleep to wander to the bathroom. Each time I struggled with my shoes. In my delirium I could never quite put them on. When we landed, I realized that my feet had swollen to nearly twice their normal width. Crazy. I had no idea that happened. I also lost my glasses one time and had to wake D up to find them for me. I didn't want to step on them, although it wouldn't have been a travesty considering I'd brought three other pairs.

I didn't watch the movies or read a word of what I brought or play cards or listen to my IPod. I just ate my vegetarian meal and slept. Apparently the long flight wasn't as dramatic as I'd feared.

I Spent More Money on the Cab Ride from JFK to My Apartment Than I Did In a Week in Buenos Aires

Hello folks. I am back from Buenos Aires and for the first time in my life am happy about humidity. It is a hot, gross day in New York City and it feels amazing. The concrete is boiling and life is good.

Last night, prior to seeing Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, D asked "So, have you had the chance to reflect on the trip?"

"No, not really. We just got back. And, well, what do you mean?"

"You know. Like how your world view has changed. That sort of thing."

"Hmmm. I don't think my world view has changed," I said.

"Really?" he asked in disbelief.

"Wait. Well. Has yours?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't had time to reflect."

I've been reflecting today, and am feeling much better about New York City. And life in general, because I think there are problems everywhere.

So yeah. I'm back and work already sucks. Nothing worked today. My boss is going to flip out when he gets back from the company outing, which I did not attend because "company outing" means "family day" and I am without family here. My apartment somehow managed to get extremely dirty while I was gone. My wallet is already hurting. I've spent almost as much in two days in NYC than I did for a week in Buenos Aires.

Surprisingly, I don't care. Warm weather has miraculous properties.

So yes. I have returned and am back to being boring. Tonight I am going to pick up laundry (yes! clean clothes!) and clean my bathroom. Woo. Hoo. And then I will sleep. Lots.

I had a great time in Buenos Aires. The pre-trip drama was resolved and things are now better than they've ever been. I think feeling equal can save relationships. The faces were beautiful. The food and drink were plenty. The wedding was amazing. The air was cold but the people were not.

I will post some photos and stories from the trip when I get a chance.

OK. Now I must work. Yeah. Awshummmmm.

I was making a toasted cheese last night (this is the technique wherein you are too lazy to make a grilled cheese so instead you put the bread plus cheese in the toaster oven) after round one of packing. I glanced quickly to check the status of the cheese/bread and saw the following: one of those small roach-like things IN THE TOASTER OVEN WITH MY SANDWICH being cooked.

Awshummmm.

Yeah. Not a real big cockroach. One of those smaller, fast-moving bastards that look like less aesthetically pleasing crickets. This is the third time I've seen one in three weeks. I am not yet worried - if I see more I'll do something about it.

The last one I saw decided to make its home on my camera battery charger and when I unplugged it the bug crawled on my hand and then landed on the floor. It turned into a showdown with me shouting "D! D! Hand me my shoe! QUICK!" and the roach just still until D appeared with the shoe. Then it ran under the piano at the speed of light.

But. DEAR GOD.

Probably grossest kitchen incident thus far in life.

No. Second grossest. There was the time I forgot about some potatos for about a year and when I found them... yeah. Alien potatos with red eye trees growing out of them. I nearly vomited.

The roach only made my stomach churn. A lot.

I removed the roach with a spoon. Now the idea of my spoons make my stomach churn.

Why are we so afraid of bugs? I have no idea.

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On my way to work this morning I was lamenting not calling my short-lived "band project" Leah and Issues. One of the boys in the short-lived "band project" suggested it as a joke, but I really liked it.

Because its sort of cute in a homage to Huey Lewis and the News sort of way.

And obviously, issues.

I probably was thinking this because on my way to work I was also thinking "I have issues."

I am having all sorts of issues. About the future. About finances. About decisions. About kids.

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Which reminds me that I have come up with a good idea for a Post Secret.

I am going to make it and send it in when I get back from Buenos Aires.

I'm not going to tell you what it is, because its a secret.

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I am exhausted today because I got no sleep last night.

Not because of packing or insomnia or because of forcing myself to stay up so that I will be guaranteed sleep on the overnight flight, but because of a three hour conversation that has me feeling only slightly better.

I don't want to have secrets. I want to know everything. I want to know everything about him that touches us. I don't want to feel guilty about things I don't know about.

This has me feeling something I haven't felt in a long time - that feeling in the pit of your stomach that is caused by the fear of losing something that you're not sure should be lost.

Things will be fine. Sometimes, though, it doesn't feel that way.

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I wish emotional distress didn't go to the stomach.

Why can't it accumulate in, say, the wrist?

No, then I couldn't blog or play piano.

No extremities. Because when emotionally distressed it is important to write and to go for long walks by oneself during which one thinks severely about things.

But it is also important to eat.

I don't know. I don't know what I'm talking about. I guess I just wish I was the type of person who consumed endless containers of ice cream when sad instead of being the type of person who doesn't want to eat at all.

Not that I'm not eating. I just couldn't care less about eating, but it could be because of almost having a cockroach with my dinner.

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So yes! Leaving for Buenos Aires tonight and am thinking mainly about what less-expensive-than-NYC haircut I will get and whether that haircut will be blonde or black or a combination of both. Right now I am leaning towards both, although I am slightly concerned because I do not speak a word of Spanish and how will I communicate my hair desires with hand motions?

The packing went relatively smoothly. Since we have no plans, I had no idea what to bring, so I brought everything. I overpacked. Not my usual style, but I think overpacking is the easier option and ease is a priority right now.

I am excited.

Not in a tangible way, though.

I'm sure once I see M and A I'll be excited, because they will be excited and prepared and will arrive with all sorts of goodies designed to entertain humans on 11 hour flights.

So.

I'm off, readers!

Until next Monday....

Have good weekends and weeks.

Jobs

I watched Rivers and Tides last night, the documentary about Andy Goldsworthy. In case you don't know who Andy Goldsworthy is (I didn't prior to hearing about this documentary a few years ago), he is a sculptor who creates works out of natural objects such as leaves or icicles and assembles them so that they'll be destroyed by nature. He does this to study time and the interaction between the earth and its creations.

Blah blah blah.

Anyway, the documentary was awesome and you should all see it. It is very serene and calm and lovely until this one scene that takes you by surprise in which some dude basically takes down a sheep and then pulls a BABY SHEEP - LAMB - from it!

You're like "Wtf!? What!? Why!??! AHHHH!!"

When this happened, I turned to D and said "Isn't it crazy how different his job is from ours?"

So crazy.

Like there are people out there who raise sheep and help them give birth.

Then there are people who make clothes or food out of animals.

And then there are artists who take wool and gently place it atop stone walls to make a statement about energy and time.

And then there are people who clone sheep.

In the movie there were people who put up a wall. I thought "Huh. What if my job was to make walls? Would that be better or worse than what I do?"

I think it would be awesome if, like in schools, there was some sort of job exchange program. Like you could go on exchange with someone who works on a farm, or who owns a laundromat, or who builds bridges, or who deep sea fishes, or who taste tests ice cream, or who drives a zamboni.

D said "The world is so beautiful. What are we doing here?"

I have no idea what the answer to that question is.

I suddenly want to buy a farm and make things out of twigs.

Boomerang Again

I just wrote that post and am now wondering if this even happened, because man. That's just weird.

Boomerang

The most bizarre thing just happened.

I was in the middle of this huge experiment in the hood when I was approached by a woman from my group.

She said "I know we don't talk very much..."

I got very excited! I thought "Ah ha! Somebody is finally confronting me about me and D! I have been waiting for this moment!" I haven't really been waiting for it, as much as I've considered it because it will probably happen, and I'm always wondering what I will do and say. It is of particular concern this week, as D and I are departing, together, for Buenos Aires on Friday. People on my floor keep asking me with whom I am going to Argentina, and I say "I am meeting my friend M and her husband at JFK - they will be coming from MA because its less expensive to fly out of New York..." I then, in all further conversation, refer to the group as "we" without mentioning that D is part of it.

I digress... as usual.

She then said "... but I have to ask of you a favor."

"Oh, ok," I said, disappointed by the lack of drama and confrontation.

"What do you need?" I asked, expecting her to request a reagent or time in the hood or maybe some relevant gossip as she has recently started working with my boss on a side project.

"Well, I know you're artistic... I'd like to request your artistic help."

Oh no.

OK. Not the end of the world. I am super busy at work this week, but whatever. I enjoy making slides. Maybe she wants help with an animated slide! Yipee!!! I could make time for an animated slide.

"OK - what do you need?"

"I need you to draw me a boomerang."

"What?"

"I need a drawing of a boomerang. I've been looking online but I can't find anything good."

Oh. My. God.

"A boomerang? I'm not very good... I don't think I can draw a boomerang..."

"No, I've seen you doodling in lab meeting. I know you can draw."

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can. I've seen you." This woman is the same woman who, when she went into labor, walked a couple of miles to the hospital instead of being driven. She's nice, but a bit... well... severe.

I wasn't being modest. I can't draw. I really can't. I said "Look, yeah, I can draw, no, I can doodle the occasional face, but I don't think I can draw a boomerang."

If she'd asked me for a cute little blonde girl walking down the streets of NYC, fine. I could draw that. I could draw a phone, or a car, or a computer. I could draw a receptor. I could draw anything I looked at. I could find a picture online and draw something, but it wouldn't be better than what I'd found online!

And really. Drawing a boomerang is hard. It's also weird. It's like if someone said "Draw a box." It's more of a shape than a thing, right? You would draw a square. Drawing a boomerang is the same as drawing the shape of a boomerang. I wanted to be like "Dude, you can draw a boomerang just as well as I can! It's like drawing a triangle or something!"

"I don't know..." I said.

She kept insisting. "I have seen you draw. You can do it. And if its not as good as anything I found online, I won't use it."

"OK," I gave in, "But can I ask you... what do you need it for?"

Reluctantly, as though she was about to say "Actually, Leah Lar, I have been sent to your planet by The Master and I have found the key to the universe right here in this incubator but, well, it is very tragic because you and everyone on your planet will die unless you can draw a perfectly symmetrical boomerang on this piece of graph paper," she said "I have to show it to someone. I have to show someone what a boomerang is."

The pressure! First of all, who doesn't know what a boomerang is? Second of all, I don't want to be responsible for explaining to someone what a boomerang is! It's going to look like a freaking piece of macaroni! Or a moon! Did she want someone throwing the boomerang? Did she want context? Did she want Crocodile Dundee?

My guess is that they do not have boomerangs in Afghanistan.

But why does she need to be so secretive? Who doesn't know about the boomerang?

I tried. I really did. But it just looks like a drawing of a boomerang, and I feel like if you don't already know what a boomerang is, the drawing isn't going to help.

I googled "Boomerang" and sent her some links after saying "I tried, but I can't draw a boomerang better than an actual photo of a boomerang, or any of the boomerang schematics I found online."

Hilarious.

OK. Work now.

Thank You, Duane

A follow-up to the Noxzema Crisis:

I have figured it out!

During my searches for the alleged Noxzema Triple Clean, I looked at other Noxzema products and started to wonder if I was insane, since the Noxzema products looked nothing like I remembered.

This caused me to wonder if I'd been using Noxzema at all.

I went to Duane Reade last night after a very. long. stressful. most stressful ever. day at work, and thought "If they don't have it, I am going to lose my shit. Do not fail me, Duane Reade. The fate of the universe rests in your hands."

I decided, this time, to be thorough in my search. I looked at all of the Noxzema products. Upon closer inspection, I realized that the Noxzema products were advertising their "Fresh new look!"

AH HA!

They did, thankfully, have the triple clean facial cleanser in its hot new silver/blue tube (much more attractive than the stale, old look, which, if you know what it looked like, tends to remind one of the good ol' 80s).

I imagine the lack of triple clean must have been due to this Noxzema Aesthetic turnover. And no, it's not that I didn't read the labels because I didn't recognize the packaging. I did. Perhaps Noxzema just took longest designing the fresh new look for its star product, and couldn't have the old stale look causing eye stores on shelves with the other new packaging.

So I am psyched, and will hopefully have normal and even skin by the time I get to Buenos Aires, which, incidentally, will be in only a few days!!!

When Things Cease to Exist

I am a girl. I am concerned about my skin. I've never had good skin. I have what people in the industry call "combination skin."

It took me forever to find a good facial cleaner. For the past few years, I've been using Noxzema's Triple Clean Cleanser.

I switched at one point when someone told me my skin-cleaning routine was less than optimal, but then my face started getting really dry so I had to switch back.

I bring this all up because I ran out of Triple Clean while I was in New Hampshire. I didn't fret. I thought "I'll just get more when I am next in a CVS."

I went to a CVS in Cambridge and they did not have it.

"Interesting..." I thought, and just borrowed Sister's Neutrogena for my remaining time in MA.

When I got back to NYC, I went to two CVS's and neither of them had it.

"Well, everywhere you go - Duane Reade!" I sang, and went to a Duane Reade.

They did not have it either!

I thought "Maybe I have no idea what I'm looking for. Maybe I'm confused. Maybe it was Clearasil? I know it was blue. It must have been Clearasil."

I bought the Clearasil and have been using it for a week and my face is already coming off. Dryness. No good!

Now.

I looked online and Noxzema Triple Clean does, in fact, exist.

But it seems as though you can no longer buy it in stores. I don't know that for a fact, but I have tried four places and none of them had it. I am going to go to another Duane Reade tonight and if its not there, what am I going to do?

I could order it online, but that seems absurd. I could buy something else, but who knows if it will be good for the face? I can't continue to waste money on things that are just going to make the skin situation worse.

But, more importantly, a huge pet peeve of mine is when things to which I am addicted cease to exist!!!

Seriously. Like why did Noxzema just stop making this? Well, I don't think they did, because its still on the website, but I can't rationalize paying shipping for a $4 bottle of facial cleanser.

What happened?

And what am I supposed to do in the aftermath?

This has happened historically with food.

When we were little kids, we used to eat at this restaurant in Milford, MA called Pub Dennis (right near the rollerskating rink - yeah!). They made these special drinks for kids that they called "slushies" but were this Pub-Dennis-Only concoction of like creamy goodness and syrup that I can't even describe. Most amazing drink of all time. We went there fairly regularly - like at least once a month. One time we went there and ordered the "slushie" and they brought us regular like 7-11 style slushies!!!!

My mother used to take us to KMart all the time and could only appease us with slushies. You know the ones. They weren't regular slushies. They were special slushies. Sort of solid. Almost like red and sugary snow. Then one day - they were gone!!! Replaced by regular 7-11 style slushies. Devastation. (The good news about this is that the KMart style slush has resurfaced at movie theaters worldwide in the form of the Arctic Blast or some other titled thicker slush that is like snow.)

In the town near my hometown, there was a restaurant called Rome Restaurant that had the most amazing french fries on the planet. It was an Italian restaurant but for some reason they had the world's best recipe for spicey fries. Hmmmm. Sister and I were addicted. We ate there fairly regularly - like at least once every two months. Then, one time, we went there and ordered french fries and they brought regular french fries to us!!! We were mortified! We asked what had happened to the other french fries and the waitress looked at us as though we were insane. If we'd known the last time we ate there was going to be our last time for those fries, we would have savored it.

The same thing happened with Friendly's. Spicey Spuds. Heaven. Then one day - gone! Tragedy. Sister called me on Sunday night and said "Leah - I am at Friendly's. You're never going to believe this. They have Spicey Spuds again!" "AWESOME! NO! YES!!! AHHHHHHH!" "See Boyfriend? I told you this was a big deal." And then she hung up.

And what happened to O'Boisies? I loved those!

And now my face is falling off because Noxzema Triple Clean Cleanser seems to have disappeared.

Do you have any similar sad stories about products disappearing?

It just isn't right when things cease to exist, and when you are not prepared.

It's so much better knowing when something happens for the last time.

Sniff. Woe is me. I am going to Duane Reade after work. Wish me luck, folks.

L. Lo

Lindsay Lohan is in a Robert Altman movie.

Right.

Wtf?