first night living in Palermo

Moved in with Jenny last night around eight, and we headed to Morelia’s for dinner. Since I had been told it was the best pizza in the world; it was a must on my list. At $45 pesos a pizza, it better be good. (It is.) We ordered a capresse especial: queso de cabro, albahaca, y tomates secos cocidos a la parilla. So basically a grilled pizza with sundried tomatoes, goat cheese and basil. Estaba muy rica. But then of course the waiter took away our last two pieces (we had thought that perhaps after a bit more wine we could create more room for one piece each.) Oh well, I’m sure Argentine girls wouldn’t have eaten as much as we did (“But the crust really is so thin…” Jenny rationalized to me.) Ben and Mark met up with us to help us finish the last few glasses of wine (splitting the cheapest bottle of Malbec-Syrah seemed like a good idea, but was just a bit too much for me and Jenny.) Dominic, Jenny’s friend from UNM, came as well.

The plan was to grab something to eat before headed to the rugby boys’ birthday party. Fede and Javier were both celebrating at Dubliners across the street from Morelia’s. Perfect. So we finished the wine, paid the bill and walked across to Dubliners, where we were greeted by Annemarie, Damian, Silvana (tanto tiempo chica!) and JuanJo. Silvana has her hair braided into a pink ribbon, and shows us pictures of Camila (her poodle) on her Razr phone – she has dyed Camila bubblegum pink. We talk and laugh and take a few pictures (we took an “American picture” – correction, United States picture. We are still in America. Just the southern part – but I’m pretty sure Silvana just hit the on/off button.) Shortly after that, Ben and Mark duck out.

Meg & Silvana @ Dubliners (gemelas, no?)

Daniel, the night doorman on Arenales who is not the most friendly, stopped Ben on his way in last night: “¡Tu novia! Ella se fue con sus maletas. ¿Que paso?” Haha, he thought we were dating. Even though as he helped me hail a cab, I told him that Esteban was returning in the morning and I was going to live with my cousin. Nos vemos.

Silvana and I chat with Annemarie, Jenny chats with Dominic, Damian chats with his boys. Silvana introduces me to the Rugby boys at a back table. Fede says hey and “I believe you already know Juan?” I meet the others and we all do the “¿Cómo te va? Mucho gusto” kiss on the cheek thing. It is almost two though, and Jenny and Dominic want to go to Asia de Cuba. Jenny had put us on this list through a website called OutBsAs.com, we’re not sure if it’s for gays or not, but girls can get in free as long as they’re there by 2:30 am. So we try it. We tell the cab to take us to the Hotel Hilton, but have to pronounce it with a Spanish accent. Heel-tohn. They do that here, the club we are going to is called Ah-see-uh de Cuba, or Ah-see-uh for short. Definitely not Ay-zhuh.

Annemarie, Jenny & Meg @ Dubliners

There’s a long line outside Asia. We ask the bouncers politely, tell them we are on the list. “Get in line,” he tells us. Blonde hair does very little for a bouncer on a power trip. We wonder if this OutBsAs thing is a scam. I don’t want to pay $50 pesos just to get in Asia. It’s cool but that’s like paying $50 USD just to get in a club in Dallas.
Dominic’s friends are inside but can’t do anything; the waiter Jenny knows only works on Thursday. We see a group of girls in line and ask Dominic to talk to them, see if they’re on the list. (Jenny and I would, but girls here are so mean. They think we’re all blonde Yankees off to steal their men. I don’t know what they’re jealous of; they’re all gorgeous.)

Luis, Laura & Jenny @ Asia de Cuba

Dominic chats it up with this blonde girl Laura while Jenny and I sneak toward the front of the line to try and sweet talk the bouncer. No dice. “¿Qué te dijo?” the blonde girls asks me. A girl, talking to me? And not being rude? Unheard of here. I tell her he told me to wait in line. She said she’s only been here 10 minutes or so. She’s from Colombia, that’s why she’s nice. She’s wearing a pink necklace like the one I bought in New York. She studies graphic design here at Universidad de Palermo. When we get inside (we pay a discounted fee, but we still pay,) Jenny and I make a lap, get hit on by a fat Colombian and a dude from California, then head back to the front bar. Laura approaches us and tells us to join her friends on the dance floor. It’s loud so I can’t hear her, but pointing is pretty universal. Her friends are all Colombian students around our age. Dressed in skinny jeans and heels. The other girls aren’t as friendly as Laura, but they’re civil; and the boys are nice. I dance with a crazy-haired Colombian. The music was too loud for introductions so we just shrugged it off. Jenny dances with a guy who has a pierced chin, apparently he’s one of Dominic’s friends. I see Laura’s pink necklace in the crowd. She’s holding what appears to be a pina colada in one hand, and Dominic’s hand in the other. No wonder she wanted us to dance with her… We continue our Colombian/American dance party until 5 am, when Jenny and I head home.

Colombian/American Dance Party @ Asia de Cuba
Dominic, Meg, Crazy-Hair, Jenny, Chin-Piercing

The first taxi we see is taken and the next one isn’t Radio (meaning it’s not regulated) so we walk on. A drunk man carrying a broken woman’s sandal approaches us, cussing in a mixture of languages. His two friends excuse him. It seems the shoe fetishist had a bit too much fun at his friend Ricardo’s birthday party. We walk with them for a while, but all the cabs are taken, do we want to split one? Ricardo lives on Charcas, close to us in Palermo. Since I only had $28 pesos to my name and would like coffee in the morning, Jenny and I think we can accept. Ricardo calls Radio Taxi and a cab picks us up. He will only carry four, so the non-birthday boy, non-drunk stays on the street corner and hails a cab to Belgrano. They were nice and paid for our cab, although the drunk was annoying:
“What do you do here?” Jenny studies, I’m just passing through, practicing my castellano. "¿Turista?” he asks me. I tell him I prefer the word traveler, viajera. “What do you do?” I explain to him that I get coffee and I write for a couple of hours, then I read, then explore and meet new people, then go out.

“You read? You need to find a boy.”
“Books are better than boys,” I tell him.
“You need to find a nice Argentine boy,” he tells me.
“Oh, I have,” I tell him, “The good ones just don’t seem to call back.”

Maybe this problem will be solved when I unlock my US phone and get a SIM card here tomorrow (fingers crossed.) Honestly, not having a phone is not as freeing and luxurious as it sounded, nor is it safe. Going cell phone-less is not exactly a true Argentine experience.