Mi Cumple

I’m locked inside my apartment. It’s rainy and cold and the door won’t open. I had planned out my day’s route over my last birthday muffin and yogurt: I was going to eat and write at Meridiano 58. Take the D Line to Plaza Italia then walk up J.L. Borges. Then I was going to check out the Rapsodia and Akiabara outlets in Palermo. Maybe some of the stores on Cordoba. But for now I will sit and wait for the locksmith with Neighbor Who Has British Accent. “Are you studying here?” I find it sounds nicer to say I’m between studies, which is the truth. I find it hard to believe he’s from here, his accent is worse than mine. (I get a lot of compliments on my accent at the bar. And also quite a few regarding my teeth which is weird.) These are my birthday gifts (so far.) I wonder how I shall write my thank you notes; I left my stationary in Dallas:

1. A red Peruvian seed beaded necklace from Annemarie.
2. A Bon-o-Bon candy from Malcom.
3. Flowers and breakfast treats (a chocolate muffin, a cream cheese raspberry filled muffin, and a Delicity cheesecake square) from Jenny, "I thought the latter two sounded fruity for you."
4. A fancy bottle of 0800 Vino champagne from Mark.

Now there's an Asian neighbor trying to get inside. What if there was a fire? We'd all surely die but her, stuck out in the cold rain. And here I am trying to get out in it all. So I will sit and wait. In my yellow coat with my yellow journal and my yellow Bon-o-Bon wrapper bookmark. (It tasted good. Reminded me of a combination of a Butterfinger and a chocolate truffle. Thanks, Malcom.) Blue purse, blue jeans, blue scarf. Red Shirt Asian Lady has walked away after buzzing her family inside. I assume Jenny got out okay for class, then again to visit Palacios San Martin and Barolo. So if British Accent Guy picks the lock, will I be able to get back in? I have nothing else on tap for today. I was supposed to plan my Iguazu trip but sometimes I wonder if I really want to go. Everyone tells me I have to, but why? I suppose I should. Who knows when I'll be back. I'm just check check checking things off my list at this point. No plans for this evening, although if it clears up I could go to La Bomba del Tiempo. But I could also use the rest. I've got a lot ahead of me. Jenny expressed interest in going to ACORN tomorrow for ice cream or cookie making/baking. She might even offer up teaching Irish dance to los pibes. That'd be from 4 - 7 pm, then I'd like to do Taco Tuesday and maybe Le Bar for a couple hours before seeing Practica X for the milonga, and then La Catedral later on. Derik says the live orchestra plays from midnight until 4 am, but he also says a lot of things.

I had a lovely birthday day. Slept in until about 11 or so, was greeted by colorful flowers and breakfast from Jenny with a note that said "You should eat as many sweets as you can on your birthday." I was already feeling fat from my three pieces of mil hojas the night before, but I ate the spongy cheesecake anyway to be nice. I saved the muffins in some Tupperware for later. Now the door is open and I'd like to leave if the locksmith would give me my key back...

birthday flowers from Jenny

It seems he still has more work to do, so I will continue on. I do hope he doesn't expect me to pay him... So I ate my birthday cheesecake, took a shower and checked my emails. We decided to leave at 2:30 pm to make it to Olsen on time via subte. I had thought I should've tried to get their early to be a greeter of sorts, but I decided that would be out of character and didn't want to disappoint. We were only 8 minutes late. As Jenny and I were a block away, Annemarie called to tell us there were only three seats left so if we didn't hurry I might not get a seat at my own birthday table.

the group

the menu

When Jenny and I arrived, seven of my friends were seated in a booth: Matt, Con and Andres from work; Annemarie and Damian; Will from the Coppola set and Mark. Jenny and I sat down (I chose the booth side) and later Fede joined us. Annemarie and Damian opted against champagne, and Matt was chugging two cups of coffee at a time. I was the last to order, so after my coffee and jugo de naranja I changed my mind from El Completo to Option B with un omelette sin panceta and verduras grilladas. And champagne of course. But when they brought me scrambled eggs I took it. Our food didn't come out until 3:45 pm, leaving Damian with fifteen minutes before heading off to watch the River game with Gabby. He and his son came by, wished me a happy birthday. "How old are you?" "Veinte tres." "Twenty-six?" "No, twenty-three," I tell him, making a three with my right hand. What is it with people who think I am twenty-six? Do I look that old? Matt kept telling people at the bar that it was my birthday, "And she doesn't look a day over 26." That's because I'm not.

The waitress at Meridiano 58 brought me agua con gas instead of sin, but it's growing on me so I let it slide. The Brie in puffed pastry was not as good as I recalled (from when Jenny ordered it.) So let's move on to mousse de maracuya and coffee.

I ended up putting the bill from Olsen on my credit card, so now I'm rolling in cash. "I'm a waitress, I have small bills," I told Will from North Carolina as I made change from his fifty. Turns out he went to the same church with which I worked in the Yucatan. He knows Leigh Vail, small world. Kristin from the bar said she couldn't make it but "feliz cumple hermosa." Sometimes I wonder if we'll hang out when she's back in Georgetown and I'm back in Austin. And Anna from the movie set called me from a locutorio to apologize for not being there around 4 pm. She lost track of time. I let out a sigh of relief because there would not have been enough room for them. It was like that scene from Father of the Bride when George Banks is ecstatic that some guy is dead. Ten was a perfect number, more than that would've been overwhelming and well, I couldn't have made reservations for any more. And I guess it was nice to have a group that all spoke English, even though I do wish Leandro could have made it. He called yesterday evening to tell me he was with his family in el campo all day and was sorry he couldn't make it. He also told me to eat a lot of cake and drink a lot. And that we should go out soon. When I told him, "Tomaba champana con mi desayuno," he laughed and said in English, "And whiskey in your coffee?" He wants to go out tomorrow night, to Rumi. We shall see. That mousse de maracuya was phenomenal. Passion fruit, orange glaze and dark chocolate.

So after brunch I came home, changed to walking shoes, and walked with Jenny to TiendaMALBA. The museum is open on Sundays, but the exhibits haven't changed, but I figured after all that food I could use a walk. It was a nice day and the neighborhood is so pretty once you cross Av. Libertador. I'm at the point where I want to just get everything out of the way as soon as I can so I can enjoy myself. And I found the souvenir I wanted to buy for Emily and Aaron. There were only two left, and I considered buying the remaining one for myself, but I couldn't justify it really. I think it goes better with their decor. I looked through the impressive art book collection and considered buying a modern architecture book for myself, but it was $220 pesos and I think its hefty weight would put me over the edge as far as checked baggage goes. But I did find a couple of coloring books with images from the museum's collection for Evelyn and Grace. (I don't trust toys here. Or anywhere really.) When Jenny and I walked back home, it was approaching dark. At like 6 in the evening. I commented that this was the earliest the sun has ever set on my June birthday.

Then (after some confusion) I got to talk to my parents on my US cell phone. It was so good to hear their voices, but it also made me realize how much I miss talking to them. I had been pretending I was at summer camp and could only write them. Hearing their voices made me think it will be good to be home in less than three weeks. Then I video-chatted with Brinkley before heading over to Plaza Dorrego to watch the tango with Derik, who had been saving a table since 7 pm.

Jenny and I left around 8 pm and of course I forgot my Guia T at home and we got lost. So after almost an hour en route (D Line to C Line then on foot through San Telmo,) we grabbed a taxi and asked for the corner of Calle Defensa and Humberto Primo. Derik was sitting at a table with two South African girls. "How did you meet Derik?" "We're staying at the same place as he is." "He's staying in a hostel? He's been here for over a year." The girls (two blondes with accents reminiscent of British and Australian combined) seemed to think that was odd as well, but it was their first night in town and they wanted to see the tango. They feigned jet-lag and snuck off shortly after we arrived. I don't blame them. Now Jenny and I were stuck with Derik, who smelled like he had downed a bottle of Malbec before our arrival. He wished me a happy birthday and hugged me for too long before making me dance with him. He's not bad, but I still doubt his expertise. All in all I don't trust him an inch.

Dancing Tango with B.O. Man in Plaza Dorrego

Then as we sat down his friend asked me to dance and before I could tell him I'd only had one lesson, he was spinning me in figure 8s and saying "No stop!" Funny how he managed to tell me in English "I lived in New York," but couldn't manage to say anything else besides "Very good!" or "One more!" I don't think he believed that I spoke Spanish, even though I was speaking it. "Me cansaste," I told him, walking away to sit down. But he was insistent, "One more!" He also had a body odor that reaked of Mexican food, and he was sweaty. I think everyone sitting on the Argentine side with their mate instead of wine saw the girl in the yellow coat as the poor girl being flung around the dance floor with the drunk American and the sweaty Argentine. But it was fun, and now I can say I danced the tango in San Telmo. To a cover of a Sting song, and a cover of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." Derik called it "Nuevo tango" during his running commentary. He would explain stuff about the dancers and the songs: "Of course in Spanish this means..." I finally snapped and told him we both speak Spanish. "Oh, well I don't. But I know French." Cool, Derik, it's not a competition. I've never enjoyed a solitary trip to the ladies' room so much. That guy talks. A lot. But I suppose from now on I will be wary of someone who pulls up a chair and introduces himself by saying, "My life is complicated." Red flag. When Jenny and I left the table to get a better view (with all the folk dancing and colored lights strung across the plaza, Jenny noted that this moment really felt South American,) he made us wait for him to pour the remaining contents of his wine glass into a stranger's empty Ecco Andes water bottle. "Now I'm portable," he said after spilling half the remaining wine onto the ground. I held my tongue from saying that those water bottled are recycled by the restaurant and by taking it he is stealing from the company. Something tells me he wouldn't have cared though. Then we followed him "just around the corner" to El Torquato Tasso, which ended up being ten blocks away, to watch some other tango dancers. But it's almost like see one, seen 'em all. Derik says Torquato Tasso is the name of the first mayor of Recoleta. Google says he was a 16th century Italian poet. Derik would also say he had friends here, and that he'd set us up with some talented dancers so we could really learn the tango, but as far as I saw, everyone he "knew" was ignoring him. I think he's probably known as the annoyingly chatty American guy who doesn't speak Spanish worth a lick because he spends all day teaching English to professionals for Blitz. "What is Blitz?" "Well it's the largest language university in the world." Really? Never heard of it. He basically taunted me for getting a postgraduate degree in Spanish when he was an engineering major and now teaches language in a "university." Actually that's not the job I want, sir. And also, you're at least twice my age. I've got a whole lotta life ahead of me. After about an hour of his crap I typed out a text message to Jenny that said as much as I enjoy the drunk play-by-play, I vote if we go to another milonga we don't notify Derik. She nodded without a word. At El Tasso he stood too close to me and I could've gotten drunk off his fumes. When we finally got rid of him, he left us at the wrong bus stop but we just wanted him to leave. He gave me a big hug and yelled that I was such a beautiful! tall! blonde! People were staring; it was uncomfortable. After we saw him stumble down the road a ways, we hailed a taxi and it dropped us off at home with 30 minutes left of my birthday. So we sat down in Cafe Tolon for some cheese croissants, but there weren't anymore. So I settled for coffee and Jenny ordered a Coke. We decided we'd eat the last two slices of mil hojas before bed. Her Coke came out with the peanut and chips merienda tray, and I was ecstatic to get to try it. I always pass by people with their beers and snacks outside, but I can never bring myself to order a drink at Cafe Tolon. Although they do have an impressive drink menu.