-BA is not the 3rd world country my friend Mirko said it was. (To put this in context, he said not to expect good internet access bc BA is a 3rd world country.). Poop on him bc I have an International B-berry, which I lurve.
-Everyone is beautiful and they know it. Now I know where my Argentines get their snobbyness from. Wonder if it will rub off on me. :).
-Food is huge here, I like that. I feel like Austin is the same way: to experience the city, you must experience the food. Instead of breakfast taco, think Medialuna. Instead of chips and salsa, think dulce de leche. I'm eating my way through the city. It will be mine...but so far, Filipino empanadas still rule the world.
-the city in general (not the barrios since I haven't been there yet) reminds me a lot of NYC. Flower and fruit stands on every corner and people speaking foreign languages, looking beautiful.
-Ped x-ing? Forget ab it. Look hard and long before you cross the street bc those crazy muthas aint stopping. There is no right of way for peds.
-While nippy in the a.m., it's pretty comfy during the day.
-the subways are cheap! Like 23 cents. Nobody talks....
Bien, hasta luego.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
More randomness from BA
Hitting on all 8s
So after a smooth yet sleepless 12+ hour journey (including the drive to Dallas), I've planted myself at a little fast food sandwhich cafe close to Michelle's Spanish school. I have with me a book and an order coming of what I think is a chocolate empanada.
I'm tired but not ready to rest mostly because after we got back from the airport, I ordered the #1 at breakfast which included a ham and cheese croissant, a glass of fresh squeezed OJ and cafe con leche (latte) that I forgot to order without caffeine. So I'm wired on my delicious $7 breakfast and ready to go!
So far so good, you know? I don't stink anymore bc I took a shower in M's quaint little apt and now I'm in the c ity central for a snack, reading/resting and blogging while M is at school.
Must interrupt myself: empanada is here and has absolutley no chocolate. Instead I've ordered corn and cheese. Yikes, here I go! (Tasting...) Onions...it also has onions....not sure I like but I'll try a second bite. Muy interesante.
I digress...I can't wait to start exploring the city! Tomorrow I plan on doing the free walking tour to gain my bearings and then Thurs maybe an open top bus tour so I can give my puppies a rest.
Top things so far today:
1. 1.5 hour breakfast with M for roughly $7
2. Not smelling.
Who knows that tonight will bring. More later!
Oh, an update on my wardrobe: had to wear my belly band bc my jeans apparently already don't fit, thanks to shorty. Thank god for Target!
Highlights of my Flight to BA
In no particular order:
1. Channel 7 on audio was all 80s, all the time. Depeche Mode, Duran Duran -how did they know it was my fav?
2. Free movies on demand: watched Confessions of a Shopaholic. (The Reader and Mall Cop were a few other choices.)
3. Practicando mi espanol con un chico de BA. El me dijo que hablo muy bien!
4. They had video games like tetris that you could play.
Not so good stuff:
1. Didn't put on enough deoderant for the 24 hour travel period. New jacket is slightly smelly as a result.
2. I forgot a pen. I can think of 5x on the flight when I needed one.
3. Related to #2 from previous list, the movie had a glitch midway through and started all over again during the montage!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Planning my Buenos Aires Look
I decided that I would try to live like a resident of BA, partly by people watching, coffee-shopping and the like. But I wanted to also spice my wardrobe up with simple accessories and bohemiem style ala Sienna Miller.
A few of the essentials I packed include:
-3 scarves: green, red plaid and silver
-3 hats: 1 knit bag lady hat, 1 knit jockey looking hat and one black Fidel Castro hat.
-gray suede boots to wear over my jeans
-black leggins to wear under a cute black and white striped dress
-bright orange wool peacoat
Stay tuned for photos...
In other random news, the American Airlines clerk asked me a question in Spanish, to which I replied, "huh?". Yeah, good luck in BA! I may have the look but my foreign-ness will be exposed the minute anyone tries to start up a convo.
Que lastima!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Did I tell you I almost got into a fight?
Ok, maybe I should rephrase: I almost got my ass kicked. It's true, and it would have been a sad sad site to see a pregnant lady get beat up by a teen pregnancy chola. No offense...
It was a few Fridays ago, and we were meeting the vball girls for drinks and dinner at Trudy's North Star. The parking there is outta control and just when I thought I saw a space opening up, the car sat there for like 10 minutes not moving. After circuling a few times, I spotted a empty space - finally! Sike: it was only empty of a car, and in its stead was agirl who's face read "don't fuck with me."
I pulled up and she was not budging - obviously claiming the prized space for her friend. I politely told her... ok, maybe I had an attitude, but I basically said she couldn't hold the space. Her reply: "I'm not moving" with her head rolling this way and that way. This lasted for probably 3 minutes - the same thing over and over again. You can't hold it, I'm not moving. Finally, I rolled my eyes and said, "Look dude, don't be a bitch." I know, I know, I didn't have to go there. And honestly, if I had a choice in the matter, I probably wouldn't have. But it was something else inside of me talking! The minute she replied "Bitch, Fuck You!", my blood started to boil, heart beating faster, arm pits getting sweaty. Yikes! What was I thinking talking shit to this person! Maybe I had feigned courage because I could see Dax and Courtney waiting for me in front of Trudy's in plain view. They for SURE had to see what was going on and would get my back, right?!
Finally, the chola's 300lb and matching in red polo friend came up, asked what was going on. My only reply was something to the effect of, "Just deal with her." He took her by the arm and finally got out of my effing way so I could park. Instead of victory, I was scared shitless. I think I was going into shock or something! I could feel the tears building up inside of me and had to take several deep breaths before getting out of the car.
As I walked toward the restaurant, I realized Dax and Courtney had no idea what happend and not had my back afterall. When I told them the story they were completely surprised and didn't even see me parking 50 feet in front of them. Dax even said something to the effect of, "This is going to be awkward now, especially if we sit near them."
THANKS DAX .... 20 fucking minutes later, our tables are set back to back in a crunched corner of the restaurant. Meanwhile, chola and I are avoiding eye contact, either too embarrassed, or in my situation, scared, to recognize the irony of the situation.
Fucking Karma...
It was a few Fridays ago, and we were meeting the vball girls for drinks and dinner at Trudy's North Star. The parking there is outta control and just when I thought I saw a space opening up, the car sat there for like 10 minutes not moving. After circuling a few times, I spotted a empty space - finally! Sike: it was only empty of a car, and in its stead was agirl who's face read "don't fuck with me."
I pulled up and she was not budging - obviously claiming the prized space for her friend. I politely told her... ok, maybe I had an attitude, but I basically said she couldn't hold the space. Her reply: "I'm not moving" with her head rolling this way and that way. This lasted for probably 3 minutes - the same thing over and over again. You can't hold it, I'm not moving. Finally, I rolled my eyes and said, "Look dude, don't be a bitch." I know, I know, I didn't have to go there. And honestly, if I had a choice in the matter, I probably wouldn't have. But it was something else inside of me talking! The minute she replied "Bitch, Fuck You!", my blood started to boil, heart beating faster, arm pits getting sweaty. Yikes! What was I thinking talking shit to this person! Maybe I had feigned courage because I could see Dax and Courtney waiting for me in front of Trudy's in plain view. They for SURE had to see what was going on and would get my back, right?!
Finally, the chola's 300lb and matching in red polo friend came up, asked what was going on. My only reply was something to the effect of, "Just deal with her." He took her by the arm and finally got out of my effing way so I could park. Instead of victory, I was scared shitless. I think I was going into shock or something! I could feel the tears building up inside of me and had to take several deep breaths before getting out of the car.
As I walked toward the restaurant, I realized Dax and Courtney had no idea what happend and not had my back afterall. When I told them the story they were completely surprised and didn't even see me parking 50 feet in front of them. Dax even said something to the effect of, "This is going to be awkward now, especially if we sit near them."
THANKS DAX .... 20 fucking minutes later, our tables are set back to back in a crunched corner of the restaurant. Meanwhile, chola and I are avoiding eye contact, either too embarrassed, or in my situation, scared, to recognize the irony of the situation.
Fucking Karma...
Monday, May 4, 2009
Ouchie
I hate hate hate prenatal vitamins! They make me feel sick and they're to hard to swallow.
Did our grandparents and parents take these?? If not, I am seriously considering not to.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
New Plan
Dax has been working late because of the legislative session, so I get pretty bored between 4:30 (when I stop working since it's 5:30 Eastern) and 8:30 when he gets home.
So I just decided that I will work out in the afternoons while he's gone. It works out bc I can't workout in the morning anyway since I'm so sick.
Let's see if this "worksout"!!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Last night Dax and I walked into a nearby Mexican ice cream shop - a Paleteria - and I immediately recognized the mobile ice cream carts and the old, weathered and dark Mexican men who push them around our neighborhood, bells ringing.
There were three of them, dressed in weathered and what I assumed was Goodwill clothing since none of it seemed to fit them right. Eighties stone-washed jeans held up with a belt and longsleeved flannel shirt. They were standing around a small cafe table counting money and leftover popsicles with a woman in an apron who held a handful of singles.
I couldn't believe how this image affected me so fast and so hard. All at once, I felt pathetic for not ever buying their popsicles, proud for the hard hours they put in the grueling Texas sun and occasional sprinkle, and embarrassed for two reasons: that these humble men worked hard, long hours (it was close to 8 pm) just to make a few dollars here and there, and secondly, that I couldn't keep my eyes off of them.
It reminded me of my childhood - how I was raised by a man not unlike these. When I think of him, I think of his dry, cracked and contorted hands. His dark and wrinkly skin - mismatched clothes. That same humility and committment to his work.
He was picked by my wealthy great grandfather to play with my grandmother as a child. Eventually, they grew up together as he was plucked from the impoverished village where they met in order to care for my grandmother's family, eventually raising three future generations, including me.
Even though he and my grandparents lived in the US by the 1980s, he barely spoke English - didn't even know how to read or write - but somehow we always understood him. From breakfast to lunch, baths and naps, he was the one who kept my cousins and I happy every day before we started school. When I look back, I feel that same embarassment knowing that he never lived a life of his own because he was too busy making our lives easier.
I never even knew this until I was about 12 - but he had left a wife, two sons and a daughter back home just to raise my grandmother's family. And with no complaint. In fact, I later learned that when my grandmother tried to force him to go home, he would call and say he wanted to come back. Poor guy didn't know any better.
All of this came back to me in about 2 minutes of being in that Paleteria, so I had to leave. Apparently emotional and staring, I needed to be somewhere else so I went back to the car while Dax ordered and paid for my latest craving.
Elew (pronounced Eeeh-leh-u) died several years ago. Every pew in our church was filled with our family, who he loved so much. It amazed me that the funeral could be so touching and pathetic at the same time. I always wondered if his family resented us. His daughter was there, she was being comforted by my brother who was her favorite of the young children she grew up raising.
I then wondered how the image of these Mexican men triggered a memory so deep and emotional. I rarely think of my childhood, let alone the man who accompanied it. Maybe it's the hormones. I do know that I liked remembering it - the feelings of sympathy, sadness and nostalgia all seemed unreal, like it didn't happen to me, but that I watched it in a really good movie. And that movie made me want to cry!!!
Not sure what the point of this post is, but I think maybe it should be something like -- remember to remember things. Dax told me once he goes through every day and thinks about all the significant moments that led him to where he is now. I'm unable to do that so for now will rely on random observations.
Currently listening to:
Paramore - That's What You Get
Paramore - Misery Business
There were three of them, dressed in weathered and what I assumed was Goodwill clothing since none of it seemed to fit them right. Eighties stone-washed jeans held up with a belt and longsleeved flannel shirt. They were standing around a small cafe table counting money and leftover popsicles with a woman in an apron who held a handful of singles.
I couldn't believe how this image affected me so fast and so hard. All at once, I felt pathetic for not ever buying their popsicles, proud for the hard hours they put in the grueling Texas sun and occasional sprinkle, and embarrassed for two reasons: that these humble men worked hard, long hours (it was close to 8 pm) just to make a few dollars here and there, and secondly, that I couldn't keep my eyes off of them.
It reminded me of my childhood - how I was raised by a man not unlike these. When I think of him, I think of his dry, cracked and contorted hands. His dark and wrinkly skin - mismatched clothes. That same humility and committment to his work.
He was picked by my wealthy great grandfather to play with my grandmother as a child. Eventually, they grew up together as he was plucked from the impoverished village where they met in order to care for my grandmother's family, eventually raising three future generations, including me.
Even though he and my grandparents lived in the US by the 1980s, he barely spoke English - didn't even know how to read or write - but somehow we always understood him. From breakfast to lunch, baths and naps, he was the one who kept my cousins and I happy every day before we started school. When I look back, I feel that same embarassment knowing that he never lived a life of his own because he was too busy making our lives easier.
I never even knew this until I was about 12 - but he had left a wife, two sons and a daughter back home just to raise my grandmother's family. And with no complaint. In fact, I later learned that when my grandmother tried to force him to go home, he would call and say he wanted to come back. Poor guy didn't know any better.
All of this came back to me in about 2 minutes of being in that Paleteria, so I had to leave. Apparently emotional and staring, I needed to be somewhere else so I went back to the car while Dax ordered and paid for my latest craving.
Elew (pronounced Eeeh-leh-u) died several years ago. Every pew in our church was filled with our family, who he loved so much. It amazed me that the funeral could be so touching and pathetic at the same time. I always wondered if his family resented us. His daughter was there, she was being comforted by my brother who was her favorite of the young children she grew up raising.
I then wondered how the image of these Mexican men triggered a memory so deep and emotional. I rarely think of my childhood, let alone the man who accompanied it. Maybe it's the hormones. I do know that I liked remembering it - the feelings of sympathy, sadness and nostalgia all seemed unreal, like it didn't happen to me, but that I watched it in a really good movie. And that movie made me want to cry!!!
Not sure what the point of this post is, but I think maybe it should be something like -- remember to remember things. Dax told me once he goes through every day and thinks about all the significant moments that led him to where he is now. I'm unable to do that so for now will rely on random observations.
Currently listening to:
Paramore - That's What You Get
Paramore - Misery Business
Friday, April 24, 2009
Weeks 4-8 coming soon
I have a hand cramp and can't type. Just wanted to let all of you readers (2 of you) know. :)
Current Playlist: Mini Sirloin Burgers
Current Playlist: Mini Sirloin Burgers
Thanks Jules!
Bring on the gifts - woman with child coming through. :) OF course, Julie gives me the one I actually have to work on!
Here's a snapshot from my pregnancy calendar - bear in mind that this is a rough estimate of how far along we are:
Week 1: Just got back from a business trip to DC. Been taking shorter trips to come home earlier to Dax. :) It worked! (Although we did not know it yet)
Week 2: Apparently had no idea we actually had a real "baby maker". It better have been good.
Week 3: Feeling funny at this point but still had no clue. Had a few celebratory drinks for Sue's wedding - OOPS! :)
Week 4: Decided to go on a trip with Lizzie to CVS. Just happened to pick up a 3-pack test and VOILA! Dax came home to celebrate.
IF you like this, there is more where that came from. Just vote for Pedro.
Here's a snapshot from my pregnancy calendar - bear in mind that this is a rough estimate of how far along we are:
Week 1: Just got back from a business trip to DC. Been taking shorter trips to come home earlier to Dax. :) It worked! (Although we did not know it yet)
Week 2: Apparently had no idea we actually had a real "baby maker". It better have been good.
Week 3: Feeling funny at this point but still had no clue. Had a few celebratory drinks for Sue's wedding - OOPS! :)
Week 4: Decided to go on a trip with Lizzie to CVS. Just happened to pick up a 3-pack test and VOILA! Dax came home to celebrate.
IF you like this, there is more where that came from. Just vote for Pedro.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The song America is singing right now...
It's just so damn catchy. I've woken up several times singing this song out loud, much to Dax's amusement.
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