What do you wear to a polo tournament on an estancia in the provincias? Nothing, because you have no way to get there. This is like the first time Leandro has flaked. Honestly, I bet he is still asleep. But I was thinking: he has no reason to continue inviting me to all these things, other than the whole blonde American novelty thing. I really should try to reciprocate. I just don’t know how. That will be my new project. Perhaps a small party. Watching Silvana in the kitchen during Sunday’s River Plate game has me itching with Martha Stewart fever. Jenny always talks about having a party. We should just do it.
We didn’t make it out last night, fell asleep around 3 am. Santiago’s lameness has rubbed off on us. But we might have tickets to Peru in June. I say “might” because my confirmation email was in Portuguese and the guy on the phone told me that they wouldn’t accept my payment via Firefox, only Internet Explorer. What if I have a Mac? It was a huge hassle. “Can I speak to your manager?” “Hold please.” And then there was a long pause until he returned and said, “He says I should handle this on my own.” Seriously? So I really have no clue, but I am determined to get to Machu Picchu, come hell or high water. Maybe I will walk. (Better start now.) Jenny’s tickets haven’t been confirmed yet, but she was promised a ticket as long as her payment goes through before May 31. I don’t know much about Brazilians, but so far I don’t trust Gol Airlines as far as I can spit. But we do have a hostel reserved in Cusco for two nights. A room with two beds with a private bath for only $26 USD per night. What’s the difference between that and a hotel? I don’t even want to know. But Jenny’s dad doesn’t want us staying in a hostel in Lima, so he’s offered to put us up for one night in the JW Marriott using his rewards points. Conde Nast ranked it one of the top 20 hotels in Latin America. I’ll take that! And then it’s 26 hours to Cusco, with a 3 hour train to Aguas Calientes, where Machu Picchu lies. Say a prayer that it works out! Mom says, “You go girl! Soak it all in.” So I am going, and I am soaking it all in.
house in San Isidro
So since we did not go to the polo games today (Leandro called and said tomorrow would be better as today is the semifinals and tomorrow’s finals will be more exciting,) Jenny and I took the train to San Isidro. Why not? If you can’t make it to one provincia out in the boondocks, why not take a half-day trip to the one that’s only a handful of train stops away? It was nice to see a new place, but it's really nothing much. But sometimes you just have to get out of Buenos Aires to breathe.
square in San Isidro where an Argentine band was singing "Wild Thing"
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