Saturday, July 26, 2008
Here's a brief rundown of my last two days in Buenos Aires:
--Saturday(say in Ahmad Rashad Inside the NBA voice for full effect): Leave the house in full offseason Josh Howard mode which is the perfect way to start a day of shopping with this great Dutch girl I'm living with. I say she's great because she really is great and also because her favorite English word is "great" as everything I ever suggest is energetically responded to with "Oh! That sounds great!"
As we're about to walk out the door and head straight to Palermo SoHo, Leanardo greets us and invites us to lunch. In my head I'm thinking, "Fuck no motherfucker" because he only eats vegetarian and also because I'm still pissed that he left on "Bridget Jones Diary," which ended up leading up to the current gayest moment of the trip.
However, it's not like I can be a dick and tell him no, so we end up going. On the way we meet two of his friends which are perhaps some of the weirdest motherfuckers I've ever met. Both of them were Brazilian yoga teachers (remember Leanardo is in Buenos Aires only to study yoga), one looked like a female Ronaldinho (my Brazillian references are limited) with more exagerated features (if that's possible) the other looked like a 1950s Brittish nun. So at this point I'm pretty messed up walking the streets of Buenos Aires with my great Dutch friend, weird-ass Leanardo, and two more Brazilians who are both carrying yoga mats on their back.
(Aside: As I am writing this the great Dutch girl just walked in the room. I asked how her day was. "Oh it was so great!" she replied. I really hope somebody else is finding this as funny as I am)
Back to the story, shit gets deeper (c) Frank White.
We then walk another 15 minutes as I continue to freak out. We make a stop. Oh great we're finally here. Nope. We're now at Leanardo's yoga headquarters, where we pick up his yoga master, a profession which I then learn exists.
If asked you to draw a picture of a stereotypical homosexual who wasn't flamboyantly gay, you would probably draw a perfect portrait of the yoga master.
Shaved head, but still able to his receding hairline, tight-fitting clothes, but nothing flashy, a perfectly gay amount of stubble, and one diamond earring in his right ear.
At this point I damn near lost my mind.
Another 10 minutes and we get to the ridiculous uber-vegan restaurant. I had one of those life-altering moments as I sat at a table with the great Dutch girl, Leanardo, the Brittish nun, the female Ronaldinho and a guy who only eats sausage that is attached to humans.
Despite being in a JR Rider-like mental condition, I didn't want to eat anything. I tried ordering miso soup, but the waitress said they didn't have it that day. I said "fuck it then" in so many words and then cursed the bitch out in my head for not having miso soup and not playing Fiona Apple in a vegan restaurant.
All that being said I was pretty happy when Leanardo moved out today.
--Sunday: Hit the artisans' market in San Telmo with the two Colombian girls and Ed, the 78-year-old.
First, I need to give some more backstory on Ed. Again he's 78, in Buenos Aires for his first time as he's trying, but failing, to learn Spanish. He was in the marine core, lived in Chicago, Gilbert, Arizona, and currently calls Los Cruces, New Mexico home. He's hard, hardcore conservative Republican, who dropped the N-word on me about 20 times within the first day I met him.
He constantly starts political battles in the house, knowing everyone in the house hates Bush and all of his others views. Then he gets frustrated because nobody even comes close to agreeing with him or seeing things his way.
For a while I was of the "Fuck Ed" belief. But after a while I kinda figured out how to hang out with him and now he's alright.
We go the market, which really didn't have shit, except for a pair of bootleg Arsenal shorts that I contemplated buying Spicker but then decided I didn't want to keep in possession for the next five months. Spicker in case you were wondering they were red and only cost 10 pesos, roughly $3 USD.
Then we went to this incredible restaurant nearby where we had a dope and fairly inexpensive meal, $15 USD for huge tenderloin and mashed potatoes.
Really I was just happy to have had a great meal with such a diverse crowd as the table featued myself, Ed (the only man I have ever met who openly hates Martin Luther King Jr.), a Colombian TV star and another Colombian girl, who has been to a Jamiriquoi concert, which earns her a ton of points.
I'm actually wildly in love with both of the girls as they're incredibly nice and really sweet people. I just learned today that the one is kind of a TV star in that she was on some educational TV show and she's currently an actress on the Colombian equivalent of "Punk'd." They both offered to show me the city should I ever make it up to Bogota, which I obviously need to do.
There's a lot more I'm forgetting about the girls, but if you bring up Escobar and cocaine around them it's like bringing up Hitler and the holocaust around Germans. Also they told me it's legal to walk around with up to two grams of coke on you in Colombia.
-----The new MURS album. It's free, thanks to Hurley, which I only support because it's owned by Nike. It's another MURS and 9th Wonder collabo. Maybe I'll drop a mini review of it later on...
----Who the fuck is pretending to be Nathan Runbeck on the WPM comments? I'm so perplexed by this. My god it better not be Spicker.
----Speaking of Nathan Runbeck, who I believe is a huge Stella Artois fan, at the grocery store you can buy 40s (or whatever the metric conversion is) of Stella for about a 1.50 USD.
---Coming up on WPM: Incredible television, my new favorite meal, some photos and some other shit I might remember later.