Bosque Palermo & The Rose Gardens

So I’ve officially wandered Bosque Palermo. Decided to trek out here after stuffing my face at Café Nostalgia (Kurt was sitting outside with some English-speaking friends and I decided not to bug him, since I only know him from lunch on the set and Facebook; and I would only want to ask him about my paycheck. I figure that’d be the equivalent of seeing someone on a Monday and having them tell me I messed up their order last Friday. And who wants that on your day off?) So from lunch I stopped at Munchi’s for ice cream, since Jenny was too busy studying to enjoy a 2X1 cone special at Il Diverso. I ordered torta brownie with crema italiano, and it was good. Then I huffed it on over to the park so I could be outside and check something else off my list. It’s pretty. Trees and a lake. It makes me miss Zilker Park in Austin, or even Lakeside Park in Dallas. I guess this place is nice because it’s an oasis in the city, right off of Av. Libertador. And yet the majority of the city sounds are drowned out by chirping birds and bobbing ducks. I’m going to miss the city sounds: the honking cars the swishing sound of the porteros sweeping off the sidewalks. I don’t have much time left. My birthday is in three days, then Jenny’s will come eleven days after that, and I leave a week after that. I’ll be home the 27th. I still need to go to a milonga, go to Colonia (in Uruguay,) figure out my trip to Iguazu (I’m thinking the week between Jenny’s and my birthdays,) and I’d love to go to an asado. That’s really it. Oh, and take pictures with the transvestites, because no one else would ever believe me when I say how beautiful they are. For my birthday, I have on tap: working Friday and Saturday nights, with the stipulation that they play The Beatles’ birthday song at midnight on Saturday; then 3 pm brunch for ten people at Olsen, depending on who shows up. Wednesday evening I’m going to a $65 peso wine tasting event with Annemarie and Damian. Twenty-three is a very sophisticated year. Then on Thursday we have reservations for four (Damian, Annemarie, Jenny and me) at Piegari, said to serve the best Northern Italian food outside of Italy. Hopefully we can go to a milonga after to watch the tango. Who knows? Perhaps I will wear heels for the first time in over two months. (I really thought I’d buy more shoes here; so far it’s only Pumas for walking.) And Annemarie says we might have an invitation to an art exhibit before dinner Thursday evening. So it’d be a full night. Best to take transvestite pictures earlier. Perhaps on Saturday night before work? Then I can drag the girls out to happy hour to visit me for a couple of hours. Approach the transvestites on foot, be friendly and flattering. Treat them with respect, or better yet, treat them like girls and they will love the attention.

It seems like now there are less things to do, but less time to do it all in. No more boliches for me, although Matt and Con said I could take a night off. But the money’s good and I have fun. It’s like going out is my job. The sun’s about to set and I want to grab coffee before I head home. My journal’s almost up. I should save these last few lines for merienda time. Might lay back on this hill for a spell.

Last few roses of June

Sitting at La Esquina Café, a cute place I jog by but never can muster up the desire to walk back to in the mornings for coffee. But it’s on my way back from Bosque Palermo and The Rose Gardens, where I ran into the “star extra” Anna (who got to ask the composer for his autograph) and her heavier “extras come in all sizes” friend with the Gaelic name that for all this time I thought was Michelle. It’s actually Micilin. How very Irish. They both picked up their cash from a chick named Sara at the office in San Telmo. $150 pesos. “She doesn’t speak any English but I think your Spanish is better than mine.” So there you go. After coffee I will race home and get ready for Laurel’s get-together at Le Bar. Aim to leave the house by 7:30 pm, and if I leave the bar by 10 pm, I can take the subte home. I don’t like it when cafes give you pre-packaged candies with your coffee. I see your cakes and pies and brownies. Give me a little taste of those. And the sage green and peach color scheme doesn’t really do it for me. Reminds me of a dated country club with all the blonde wood. I’m trying to hurry but the coffee is too hot. I should use this time to relax, but it’s been one of those days: the maid didn’t show up this morning and my Movistar card ran out of charge although I bought $20 pesos of credit on Sunday. Oh well, I guess I’ll chalk it up to karma.