The Weekend

My legs are exhausted. I feel like I've spent the last three days on my feet: working and walking and dancing; but here's a rundown of my weekend and the last few days of being a 22-year old.

Saturday, June 7 - 1:34 pm
Last night at the bar was like holistic night: I got three business cards. One from the owner of Pura Vida Juice Bar (Juan Pablo from Miami who doesn't speak Spanish. Usually he keeps Kosher but last night he was throwing back shots of Jose Cuervo. I told him I loved his place and can I get free food? He says if he's there, yes. I don't know whether he works at the one in Microcentro or Recoleta, but I know I have his cell phone number.) Then there was Nicolas Martinelli, or "Lord Jim," as his card says. I was told he is an astrologer to the stars. He said he would give me a free reading and since he's "famous" in that realm, I might take him on it. Too bad I don't know the hour of my birth (Daddy says he thinks it was about noon.) Lord Jim/Nicolas looked like you would expect an astrologer to look: long curly hair, gypsy features and an unbuttoned to white flowy shirt with a wooden necklace. He kept calling me "beautiful" in English and "hermosa" in Spanish. Then he asked me if I was currently in love. Shouldn't he be able to tell that as an astrologer? I'm confused by the job description. And then his friend gave me his card with a cryptic "someday in your future you will stop by this place" message. There's a prayer written on the back. I think he owns some sort of holistic medicines shop on J.L. Borges. So perhaps I can stop by. And I gave my real number to Juan the Colombian who's always around. He says he's the chef at Hotel Palace Alvear. Maybe he can hook me up. He lives near Santa Fe and Aguero, so he's pretty close by to my place. He asked if we could get coffee sometime. Coffee always sounds harmless enough; he can practice English and I can practice Spanish. But curse that Ezequiel. I was put in the back last night (because our two new waitresses decided not to show up and Paula is now a bartender) so I had to deal with him and cleaning out the ash trays. It was also Official Break Your Glass Night apparently. But Ezequiel asked me if I got his message and I don't know why I lied and said my phone was broken. Later his friends confronted me (after they called me "his girl" and he was flirting with some other blonde - fine by me. Move on, please,) and asked if my phone was really broken. I said yes (why all the lies?) but that I just don't have time to see him again. And that it looked like he was moving on, which he should, because I'm leaving soon. And then the authorities came over for some sort of inspection while I was in the kitchen asking Andres to make some chick's margarita. So I had to hide in the back room where we store all the bottles and our coats. I had decided that if I were to get caught, I would speak only English and pretend to be a drunk American looking for her coat. Luckily that never happened. Andres pushed out the old stained-glass window and I walked out into the crowd to become a patron until all was clear. I sat with my movie set extra friends Anna and Micilin, who came to visit me in the bar. Mic and I chatted while Anna got cozy with some Argentine. I think Mic enjoyed the company. She told me that she is headed back over to Uruguay to help these folks run their hostel in Punta del Diablo during off season. She figures she'll be alone with the chef so she'll have to practice her Spanish. Seeing all the empty glasses scattered on tables bugged me, but I wasn't allowed to clean up, lest Matt and Con get in trouble for hiring illegals. But eventually the table beside me ordered three fernets and a Quilmes stout, and I saw Kristin working the bar so I ventured back out. Then Ezequiel accosted by grabbing my wrist as I was trying to work because he wanted to talk. "I know I pissed off you," he told me. I really wish he'd speak Spanish; that's what really pisses off me. I finally told him I don't even have enough time to do the things I have to do, let alone the things I want to do, and that I can't see him again. I think that's best. But just in case, I ate a banana in the kitchen (because nobody orders banana daiquiris anyway) and danced on the bar the rest of the night to avoid dealing with him.

Kristin & Meg dancing on the bar at Sugar

Saturday, 3:23 pm
I was planning on meeting Annemarie and Damian in their 'hood, but they're busy homemaking so I decided to grab some Peruvian food in Abasto before sampling Balcarce's coffee in Belgrano. Abasto is typically cheaper because it's where all the Jews live (I'm not making this stuff up,) but I'm starting to think a lot of Peruvians live here too. I was going to go to this dive called El Rey, but when I checked the menu on the window (I'm a big fan of that tactic,) the food options were either a whole chicken or Chinese food. That didn't sound so good to me, so I'm breaking my table cloth rule for lunch at Mochica: Sabores del Peru and ordered the ceviche. I think I was spoiled by the menu at Primavera Trujillano, so many good fish dishes on the menu. Here it's jelly fish and cow hearts. I'll pass (and hope that's a poor translation.)

Abasto Mall on Aguero

Whatever this green gravy sauce is, it's spicy. And I'm pretty sure they served some sort of potatoes mashed up on bread. I'll eat it though. Now my mouth is on fire. I've got some serious catching up to do with spicy food when I get home. Maybe I'll eat a few of these Peruvian corn nuts/pochoclo so my eyes will stop watering. Seriously, I'm on fire. The ceviche was pretty good. Smelled a little fishy but tasted alright. Last night Matt passed out on the 7-Up bottles in the kitchen, and Malcom and I have to coax him to stay there when he tried to stumble through the curtain doorway to the front bar. He really is a mess. They should add "damage control" to the job description. But eventually he made it out of the kitchen and up the stairs. And later he managed to snog some regular. Con was wearing the blue wig so you know it was a good night. I was the sober-est one in the bar, so I would sneak into the kitchen to chat with Malcom while he washed dishes. He said he saw my pictures from the River Plate vs. Huracan game. "I am Huracan," he told me. I felt bad. I have no allegiance to the team, it's just who I know. River won that game; Malcom said he watched it on TV and was devastated when his team lost. Then we talked basketball, which he plays even though he's so little. Malcom is another one of the Argentines I will miss a lot when I leave. I love his laugh, it is so high pitched and innocent.

Saturday, 5:10 pm
Having coffee at Balcarce, then peaking my head in the door when I stop by Annemarie and Damian's place. They're painting. And I'm wearing my (recently dry-cleaned) yellow coat. Balcarce is a chain from Mar del Plata. It used to be that each city (particularly beach towns and tourist locales) had their own dessert or alfajor. And that's what you brought back home to friends. That's how Havanna got so big with Havanettes; and I imagine it's the same with Balcarce.

Saturday, 10:27 pm
Making my to-do lists puts me in a panic. I need to learn to let it all go. I still have more time here than my first trip down, but it still feels like I don't have enough time to do it all. Last night as I was walking home from work, a cab driver told me, "Te van a robar." Who? Where? Actually I believe you're the one who's trying to rob me, sir. I walk this route every weekend. I think I'll save the cab fare. And tonight I bought myself a birthday cake to have at the bar. Mil hojas: the prettiest cheap one. At $39 pesos, I figured it was cheaper than a box cake mix coupled with the frustration of trying to make it last minute in our old gas oven. Jenny's not going to make it to the bar. Happy birthday to me...

Mil Hojas Birthday Cake in the Back of the Bar

Sunday, June 8 - 12:33 pm
Rang in my birthday at the bar with Matt, Andres, Kristin, Malcom, Tomas, Nacho y Paula. Malcom was the first to wish me happy birthday, or feliz cumple, at midnight. "Gracias, eres la primera," I butchered my words, "I mean, 'Sos el primer.'" "I understand," he told me in English. On Friday night my math skills were rough. On Saturday it was my Spanish. I got so flustered walking to work with my cake and trying to figure how I'd cram everything all in that I ended up walking too far down Gascon that I got lost. I had to get out my Guia T to get back on track. And Con was so sick he left as soon as the inspection guy collected his payment. So we were short-staffed as is, minus one of the owners. Matt played the Beatles' birthday song for me at 1:00 am, but I barely got to enjoy it because I was waiting tables for one of the two birthday parties. At least I knew it was for me... We didn't even get to cut the birthday cake until 4:30 am. I'd say it was a pretty big hit, but any sustenance tends to be when you're on your feet all night. (Malcom gave me a Bon-o-Bon candy for my birthday. So sweet of him. He's such a great guy, and his trademark "todo bien" rivals my waitress mantra of the same words.) Annemarie and Damian came by to surprise me, and I got to chat for a while (when the inspector came back,) but they were able to entertain themselves while I was working by taking pictures. And Andres would give them all the leftover drinks, so I think they had a good time.

Annemarie made my camera take "drunk pictures"
Annemarie, Meg & Damian at Bar Sugar

At one point I couldn't find the table who ordered a caipiroska and a pint, so I gave the extra beer to Santiago. I was going to keep the caipiroska for myself, but the guy who ordered it found me. Poured another pint and he was on his merry way. Good thing I didn't sip on his cocktail. There was an obnoxious birthday party, and Paula kept a tab for them. Then I had to take over. And when the tab ran out they were all rude and didn't want to pay. The group ordered two fernets and a pint. When I returned with the drinks, one guy handed me a $50, so I returned to him with $4 pesos change. The man accused me of cheating him. "I only had one fernet and a beer." "Well, I brought out two fernets and a beer. One of your friends took a fernet; take it up with him." "Which friend?" "I don't know." The rest of the night they yelled at me and called me horrible names, but I'm sorry if their friends are liars. Two girls in the same group told me, "Le faltan dos fernets," as I was bringing out a third one that was ordered later. "$18 pesos," I told them as I handed over the fernet & Coke. But they said they had already paid and it started all over again. They ended up paying me for one but canceling the other. (On Friday night a girl in a red top walked away without paying for her wells drink. Kristin asked me to approach her. Red Shirt Girl was so drunk she thought she was clever, and told me the two older men at the bar offered to pay for her drink. So I asked them in front of her, and they said they didn't know her. "One second," she said and then wandered off. I figured my time was better spent on someone who would actually pay.) Last night someone stole our tip jar. Can you believe that? Just walked out with all our cash, save the $13 pesos in the front bar's jar. In the end Matt ended up stuffing the tips with a couple of hundreds, leaving us with $30 pesos each, but I think it should've been closer to $400 en total. There were some special birthday tips in there... But still, it was a good way to open up a new year: busy with work and surrounded by new friends. Friday night was a lot more fun though (save the Ezequiel run-ins.) He was there last night but left me completely alone. I pointed him out as he stood behind Annemarie and she said, "Good thing your mom taught you to match up your plaids." Yep, total lapse of judgment. And the red bar lights really are flattering.