Thursday, March 23, 2006

Mas cojer el burro, por insistidor, no por bonito

A great thing about learning languages are the idiomatic expressions. I especially like this one, as it is true, and says a great deal about Latin culture on the whole. I won't translate it because you never know when your mother will stumble across your blog.

In other news, I ventured out to Parque Rivadavia last Sunday. Linea A is now perhaps my favorite subte line here. It's traversed by classic cars, old style lighting, wooden seats and doors, and at any moment they may just lose that final screw and go flying into the other side. The park is great, it's filled with book and magazine sellers, and most importantly cheap music. The majority runs at 5 mangoes a pop, but you can buy 5 for 20, a solid deal. Depending on the stall, you can buy double disc albums as one, so then you're really getting a bargain. There is an issue with music shopping though, it's like a box of chocolates... Except that chocolate is generally delicious and music can be downright cacophonic.

I'd say I had just under 50% success. Trouble with asking the opinion of a salesman is they want to sell you things. Esta bueno? Si si, como no. Everything in their opinion is platinum, if it means you'll buy it. I purchased some Argentine music on the assumption that I should accustom myself to all aspects of the culture here. Truth is, I am not a fanatico for Rock Nacional. Nor for Charly Garcia, "Be damned!" you might say to me, but everyone has an opinion. It's all rather grating, and has little of the class or soul that I tend to like in my music, or the beat and booty shake I enjoy in my hiphop or electronica. The lyrics are often potent and at times incendiary, but the overall package lives up to my expectations of Industria Argentina. Should you have some solid recommendations, I'd gladly take them. Additionally, beware when buying rebarato cd's, they are often rebarato for a reason, damned "you get what you pay for" law. Comes nowhere close to buying music in Asia, where you can listen to every cd in the store 5 times just for fun, but I like throwing darts from time to time.

My cousin, the asador, had a little fiesta at his house Saturday. I stuffed myself and took a little too much of the good stuff as usual. There are those that claim to have a skinny person dying to get out of their fat body. I have a fat person bound in chains inside this flaco, and he stays quiet as long as I give him 5 to 10 kilos of meat a week. Either that or all those jokes I make about tapeworms aren't so funny, Asia! His wife asked me to bring some plastic plates and "silverware" for the party. As it turns out, this is no small task. Me thinks the Chinese don't particularly believe in these items. After 5 stores, I found one clerk (the first put up her hands and ran away when I said something in spanish, I am going to have to ask for a refund from my teacher ) who cheerily showed me a rack of things hidden on the side of the cold drinks fridge. Not quite sufficient, but I bought what they had anyway so as to not turn up empty handed.

I seem to be getting a reputation in this town for eating too much and falling asleep immediately afterwards. The majority of my friends have come to expect my absence if I tell them I'm going out to eat. Generally I wake up a few hours later with a mountain of meat in my stomach fighting an Iraqi style battle with digestion. It seems my brain is Mr. Bush, and just like him, doesn't think at all. To say my eyes are too big is something of an understatement.

I went out last night and had a very entertaining conversation with one of the many hombres that sell futuristic crap out of their bags. The basic gist of which made me question yet again why I came to Argentina and not to Brasil. Hystericas, todas hystericas!! I said, "but I don't speak Portuguese.." "It's for the better, you get the sympathy booty" (note, all translated, and nicely). Well, I'm in the ballroom, tengo que bailar.

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