I felt like writing a list:

1) I refused to write lists while I was in Argentina.

2) I've been so busy this week and I can't think of anything to post about. Ugh. How boring can she get.

3) I'm still addicted to alfajores.

4) Jackie from 86 Tips wants me to rename the Island "comeoniwanalayya" from the movie 'Grumpy Old Men'. Jackie, your wish is granted. It sounds so much better than Bermuda. Any other requests to make this Island more tourist friendly are welcome.

5) I ate fish sandwiches, french fries, cole slaw and conch fritters on Saturday night the day I arrived back from Argentina. I felt if I had another piece of beef I would die (well, ok, not really I just wanted to mix it up and NTF suggested it. It was better than the 50th pizza in a month).

6) Gus sang and danced when he saw me as he waited in the car at the airport when he came with my dad to pick me up. I wish I had a video camera to catch that moment. Then again, he sings and dances every time I leave him for more than 5 minutes.

7) SarahT and Becca still haven't made it to Chile. But they did make it to Mendoza and the crazy, old hostel man IS STILL THERE!

8) I received a postcard from Ms Nobody while I was still in Argentina. It had grapes on it and it was from wine country (The California one). It was very exciting to find a postcard waiting for me when I came back (and it wasn't one I'd sent myself...he he he).

9) I'm working on a silly quiz for our hurricane supplement. If you're really smart about being prepared for hurricanes you're a "Hurricane Skilla".

10) I still miss NTF because we've both been busy... I need my Islandgirl/NTF time!!!

Wine
Originally uploaded by Belleadore.

I miss it. Thankfully, I brought some home...and some alfajores too!

This was the top of our fridge in the apartment the day I left. Ahhh...the power of Argentine wine!

...the truth is I never left you la la la la la.

Ok, so my dream of singing to the masses on the balcony of the Casa Rosada a la Evita never came true but I sure am gonna miss this here ole town

Today is my last day in Buenos Aires and looky here, I'm sittin' in the locofreakintorio. Honestly, I've seen and done all there is to, well, see and do here (except for the whole singing on the balcony thingy) so I'm just preparing myself for the long ass flight home. Definitely a mix of happy and sad feelings but I really am so looking forward to seeing The Gus and, ok, I'll admit it I MISS NTF LIKE IT'S GOING OUT OF FREAKIN' STYLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, now that I can't see through the tears in my eyes I'll hand the mic over to SarahT, who has so brilliantly captured my month long vacation, I mean month of studying Spanish in Argentina...I swear, I really did learn a lot!

When the actors are speaking in German and the subtitles are all in Spanish.

SarahT gives a little more insight in to Downfall- the last few days before Hitler's suicide.

But I had to at least say that it's worth seeing but I will wait to watch it with English subtitles in maybe a century or two. It was frightening, disturbing, draining and extremely powerful. I've never felt so traumatized after seeing a movie.

I pretty much am obsessed with tango because of the shoes (some of the outfits are pretty hot, oh, and the moves are killer too.)

But I'd been dreaming of going to Tango Brujo (yeah, that means tango wizard) since I read about the store in a Travel + Leisure article: "I snap up a pair that look like they could have been made by Marc Jacobs, and cost less..." Oh, I pity myself for reading too many magazines but I couldn't even breath on the clothes in Marc Jacobs but I sure do like to dress as if I shop there! And so, I had to "snap" up my own oh-so-made by that up and coming designer-pair for myself:



I almost cried when I walked into that shop. They had everything a tango wannabe could ever desire. I slipped the shoes on and really, my feet thought they were in heaven (after walking around in these freakin stank Pumas for the last three weeks, anything feels like heaven to my poor abused feet, but that's totally not the point). They also cost $51. Crazy.

I also picked up a couple of old school tango CDs (my great grandma said she didn't want a picture of Eva Peron but she did want tango music. She's also 93. Go granny, go granny, go!). Along with the classics I also asked the very helpful sales lady, who thankfully spoke English, to help me pick out some more contemporary tango music and she played several great picks including this, which is a very funky blend of old school tango music and hip dance beats. So cool.

Now, if only I could actually learn to dance the tango I'd be set. My mom asked me if the shoes somehow magically allow you to dance like a pro. Hey, if not, at least I'll be comfortable the next time I'm boogying it out in da club!

In true Argentine fashion we headed to Asia de Cuba last night with a dinner reservation for 10.30 p.m.

We were a little early but a girls got to do what a girls got to do to get in to a fairly hip Buenos Aires night spot (the restaurant turns into a nightclub after 1 a.m.).

You know how the food is so good here, well, I mean, unless you've been here you don't really know so let me satiate your appetite:

Beef:Well, it truly is delicious. I had a nice big chunk of it plunked on my plate last night; cooked to perfection. Yum.

Wine:
Have I said enough about the good, cheap wine here? No, I haven't. We shared a few. It was good, of course!

Dulce de leche con helado: I can't say anything more about this because I will...well, you probably don't want to know in explicit detail what your first bite of dulce de leche (every time you have it) is like. And when it's made into ice cream...it's, well, even better than.....any other ice cream in the world!

So, that was my meal.

But I've completely gotten off the subject of what I had intended to post. Food does that to me sometimes. I get distracted. Easily.

As we were trying to fit in to the porteno lifestyle- me with my fun, new sparkly scarf that I finally found, and Becca with her hot Rapsodia jeans- we were set for a great night of food, wine and dancing until the wee hours of the night (how these people get up the next morning for work, I'll never know!).

I, having a little too much dulce de leche and some glasses of wine (and two glasses of vodka and redbull) had some soul in my feet and needed to head to the dance floor whether anyone else was going to join me or not.

Thankfully, when it comes to foreign places where you know nobody, I didn't feel like a complete jerk dancing by myself. I had artfully shaken my bootie on the dance floor to a number of songs and was continuing to enjoy myself when I was interrupted by a pleasant looking gentleman. I don't quite remember how this happened but I was no longer dancing and was instead in an a conversation with a man who greatly resembled another chap who'd attempted to seduce me earlier in the night.

I say attempted, although, I really wasn't thinking they actually wanted to pick me up. I later realised that, duh, your in a nightclub, your a women, of course every man in here assumes that if you're drinking and dancing like a looney you clearly want to go home with them.

As soon as they discovered I had a boyfriend in Boston (I hate explaining to foreigners about being from an Island they've probably never heard of) they slip away. Both of them somehow slipped the question in there like, oh, let's see if she's ripe meat or if we've just wasted our time!

Why can't a girl and a guy, or for that matter, a girl and a girl, have a decent conversation together in a bar without the thought that it might lead to sex? I had interesting conversations with both men about the Argentine lifestyle that I would never have learned from a guidebook. But did I want to have sex with them? No! I'm not attracted to either types (and considering I thought I was talking to the same guy until he pointed out that he hadn't actually spoken to me before) and I'm completely in love and infatuated with my boyfriend it didn't even cross my mind. Oy!

Mendoza was great. Mendoza was sketchy. Here's why:

The wine was fabulous, of course.

The scenery was stunning. We took a trek up a hill to a monument where we got a perfect view of the Andes- even the far off ones with snow all over them. Sarah kept saying, "If I keep walking just a little further I'll make it to Chile. I must go to Chile!"

Our hostel was perfect but a bit of a shock for the first time hostel virgin.


My personal favourite event at the hostel was the "asado"- a barbecue, Argentine style. Basically, the whole animal is placed in the parilla and rubbed with salts and spices and then ravaged...I mean eaten by the heathens..I mean hungry people. SarahT and Becca opted for the soyburger (pussies....shit, did I just say that?)

So, being a hostel virgin I wasn't quite prepared for sharing everything with other people including those of the opposite sex. As soon as SarahT loudly asked, "How old is too old to be staying in a hostel." with the gentleman in question sitting right next to us, our troubles began. Including the fact that the sketchy old man ended up being my bunk buddy. Yeah, it was a little creepy, especially when, after asking me where I was from and finding out that I was a fellow Brit (dependent Brit without an accent, of course), he said, "Everywhere we Brits go we kill people." Dude, that is so not how to make friends with three girls who already think it's sketchy that you're over 50 and staying in a hostel. We would have given you at least the benefit of the doubt but, that just wasn't cool.

Other sketchy things about Mendoza. Remember how I'm like totally the biggest fan of dogs. Oh, you don't remember the 50 posts I've written about my child? I'll have to remember to post one soon.

Anywho, in Mendoza, the dogs don't really have homes like they do here in Buenos Aires where they're basically treated like royalty. In Mendoza they own the parks, barking in packs at anyone they don't particularly like walking or biking through their park (this is actually really comical to watch but I really did feel bad for the people they were barking at). They also like to walk through the viaducts below the sidewalks so they tend to be a bit dirty and greasy looking plus I'm sure they all have something much worse than rabies.

So, being the dog lover I am I also some how also become the dog whisperer (BTW that show is sad).

After dinner on Saturday night at a well Spanish restaurant we decided to make room for a little more alcohol. Thinking Mendoza would be safer than Buenos Aires at night (we've felt pretty comfortable so far and no, I haven't had to use the heel of my shoe as a weapon) we set out on foot. Not more than 5 minutes later we were being stalked by a sketchy man. We popped back into the doorway of the Spanish restaurant and he kept going. We set off again hoping no more sketchy men (we'd thankfully left the sketchiest of them all back at the hostel) would follow us.

Clip, clip, clip, clip.....we turned to face the scariest of all. A frightening mutt had decided to follow us. He joined us like he was our friend that we really didn't want there (I know a few of those) and continued to follow us even when I turned around and said "NO!" in my really scary voice.

He even crossed the street to fake us out and we thought we'd lost him but no...clip, clip, clip, clip...there he was again. He followed us all the way to the bar. I was so worried he was going to wait for us by the window and watch us. That freakin' sound. It will haunt all of us forever...

Clip, clip, clip, clip....

Wow. Can you believe it. We made time out of our first wine hopping day to check out e-mail (and for me to post something).

Suprisingly, we made it to two wineries today. After our 13 hour (or maybe it was more like 15 hours) in a cool, double decker bus- we got the front window seats on top. It was cool during the daylight hours, of course- we got ourselves to the hostel for a shower (my first hostel experience, wahoo!) and hopped back on the bus for a jaunt down bodega lane.

But, of course, not without buying a pair of flip-flops (we each got a pair with a different football team logo on them) for the shower, freaking out about being in a hostel shower shared by both men and women (yes, I have been pampered all my life), buying 9 empanadas to share for the ride to the bodegas, and having a cute (I was really the only one who thought he was cute) stray, mutt follow the smell of our empanadas through the bus station (I'm sorry, Gussie, I couldn't help one of your brethren today. He surely would have followed us everywhere).

Once on our way on the bus we passed lots of things not quite sure where to get off at our first winery stop (We were hoping to hit Chandon and Norton -whose wines we had tried in both Bermuda and Buenos Aires). According to our handy Mendoza map, the two bodegas were next to each other.

Finally, after what felt like miles, we passed Norton expecting Chandon to be just past that last row of grape vines.

Ten minutes later we finally saw the Chandon bodega. We were very excited at this point that we weren't just basically riding around on the bus looking like complete tourists not knowing when to get off.

We met a pleasant security guard who directed us through the garden and over to another pleasant looking security guard, who would help us find our way into the wine vats.

Pleasant security guard #2 explained that the next tour wouldn't be again until 4 p.m. At 2.30 p.m. we didn't know quite what to do with ourselves with miles and miles of grape vines between us, Norton or any other form of civilization. PSG# told us to head down a kilometer or two where we'd find, what we thought he said, an English bodega.

Yes, you, crazy English-speaking people. Off with you, go find an English speaking bodega.

Miserable and worried we were being sent to some never-toured bodega we trudged down the road as slimy men honked at us (three girls walking down the road is probably not a common sight).

Lo and behold we came across the English bodega, Dolium, which was already looking quite unEnglish. A third pleasant security guard happily greeted us and made a phone call and a pleasant looking tour guide came and met us happily speaking Spanish. We were quite confused as to where the English bodega had gone to but continued our tour- meeting along the way some British folks.

A bottle of Malbec (each, Sarah two) and having sipped at least 5 different wine varietals later we were off to Chandon for our 4 p.m. tour- noting that the British folk had made it ahead of us. We got to Chandon just in time to have PSG#2 wave us back across the garden for our tour.

More wine and happiness at having been to our first wineries we hopped back on the bus explaining to the British folk that PSG#2 had directed us to the next bodega where he'd apparently sent some other English people- them.

In December I fainted in the office. Fell face down and knocked my shoulder.

Everyone freaked out and I finally got to experience my first ride in an ambulance and my first time in a hospital (since I could remember, of course).

At first, there was no real explanation. In the ambulance they were able to determine that I didn't have diabetes. Thank G-O-D (my life would be over without sugar). So, it was up to the 10 or so people who came to visit me that morning to figure out what was wrong.

Naturally, NTF was calm during lunch at the hospital with two friends as he explained that his friend Ben and SarahT would be the godparents of our son Jeffrey (or would it be Geoffrey?). Calmly, he explained that it would be a boy (and if it wasn't he would stuff it back up there).

After this lunch conversation SarahT came and told me that she would be the godmother of our child.

"Our child!? What are you talking about!?" I said mildly confused but not at all mildly amused as I was laid up in a hospital bed with a nasty needle sticking out of my hand (I faint when I get needles, the whole hospital thing was not a nice thing).

SarahT explained how calm NTF had been as he told her about the child I would have.

"I'm so glad he has everything sorted out. At least I can rest easy knowing that you and BEN will be able to take care of our child if anything were to happen to us." I said with all the snarkiness I could muster.

Thankfully, NTF's dad, a doctor, was on hand that day to come and check my urine (so pleasant) and let me know that it was just a little attention-seeking and nothing to be worried about.

My mother, who had been sitting with me the whole time, said loudly under her breath: "So, we don't have to worry that we'll be grandparents, then?" Thanks, mom.

Yesterday, in the middle of a Buenos Aires shopping centre Jeff (or Geoff) came back to haunt me. I was a little sick that morning but the prospect of seeing Star Wars at 7 p.m. finally dragged me out of bed and I made the trek to the movie theatre to meet ST and Becca. While sitting in the food court I got the same wave of nausea that hit me back in December. This time I made sure to stay sitting and I blacked out for a few seconds with ST standing in front of me. She made me eat toast and has now become my guardian of eating.

This weekend we're going to Mendoza. The land of wine...and, well, wine.

If you don't see me lurking around your blogs or posting anything for the weekend I promise my blood pressure hasn't dropped and I'm not in some hospital being forced to learn Spanish.

I'm probably just face down in a barrel of grapes.

I guess maybe it's just the European influence (why is it that Europeans are so darn passionate?) but the people here just love to kiss. In all sorts of places. I mean not all sorts of places on their selves but like in line at Blockbuster (that's the favourite so far), on the side of the street, at dinner.

Now I've always liked to hold hands in public but even then it makes me feel a little awkward. And when I woke up the morning after "meeting" NTF for the first time I was appalled at the memory of making out like two overly horny high school kids at the bar. I thought it was some sort of dream, damn! a really good dream, but not in front of all my new friends and a bar full of people who probably know my mom and dad personally.

It is so sweet, though when you see an older couple hold hands throughout dinner or when you see a husband with his arm draped around his wife's shoulders as they walk down the street. Content with just each other. You wonder if that type of passion, the one where, no matter where you are- walking across the street, ordering a cup of coffee- if you all of a sudden just want to start kissing the person you care about like there's no one else in the world around you that that is the best kind around. The kind that continues forever.

Maybe that's what the rest of us are all missing. No, it's no fun to watch other people do it. But when you are in that moment holding that person and thinking about only them, it is the most amazing feeling ever. But then there is a lot more to it than that. It could be a passionate conversation, or the way a person looks at you, or the touch of their hand pressing your back as you move together somewhere. I guess the portenos like to show their affection a little more. They're not too afraid of passion and showing it.

I know that if I go back home and start snogging NTF in the middle of the day on Front Street he might think the dulce de leche has gone to my head. But I can't help wishing I was with here with him. Standing on the corner of the street. The flash and rush of the city around us but not a care in the world. Just me. Him. A kiss.

Novecento- where we enjoyed fine beer, fine cocktails, fine wine cause we're fine women!

I'm getting so cheap living in this city.

Yesterday, we spent 68 pesos sending about 14 postcards and were all shocked. I mean, we may be on the same time zone but it is a pretty far trek for them darn postcards.

What it really was, was that our day seemed like it was about to fall apart. We couldn't get money out so we were unprepared when we got to the post office and the sweet, old lady had counted out all of the postcards and stuck all of the stamps on for us so we had to scrounge for the last bit of change. Then it started to rain and Becca's mp3 player stopped working and SarahT almost watched us get hit by a car. These portenos don't give two craps if you're walking across the street, man, there is no such thing as pedestrians have right of way in this city.

So, in order to curb our unfortunate circumstances (I like to look at it as a new and interesting stories to tell) we decided to find the closest bar (although, that took a while at 4 in the afternoon for some reason). Finally, after all of our mishaps we sat down to a good beer. And a cocktail. And a bottle of wine. Then stumbled on to a very American inspired bar for nachos, onion rings and more beers. Then we made it back to our favourite place, Jackie O's, and enjoyed a delicious, very Italian meal. My friends, this whole evening of gluttony came to about 30 bucks each.

I don't know what I'm going to do when I get back to the real world. I'm going to be such a cheap ass when I get back to the Island- $40 for this crap! And to top it off you eat this superior food at the best prices and you still wonder: how are these people so damn skinny!

I'm currently undergoing treatment for my alafores addiction and trying not to faint over helado. So in the meantime I will play some games. And, yes, I will end the pain here. (This post just doesn't seem to want to show up. I will keep trying because I'm still in sensory overload. Will have more stories about crazy, beautiful portenos soon. Swear!)

Thanks A* for the diversion:

Total number of films I own on DVD/video: My parents have a DVD player and my mother's boyfriend has bought some silly DVDs to go with it but I just tend to rent them .The one video that I used to own was The English Patient. Still one of the best films ever

The last film I bought: n/a (gosh this is fun!)

The last film I watched: Proof of Life- in Spanish. Even though I've watched that movie before, I had no clue what was going on. I also fell asleep during most of it.

Five films that I watch a lot or that mean a lot to me (in no particular order): I'm really not a huge fan of movies, although I like a lot of them when I watch them. I think I'll probably have to say that the Lord of the Rings trilogy has a lot of meaning to me...NTF knows why!

Volume of music files on my computer: If I was at home I could say but I have about 535 songs on my iTunes right now. I downloaded tons for my iPod specifically for this trip and I haven't listened to the thing once.

The last CD I bought was: Dave Matthews Band. Their new CD is fabulous and has been downloaded on my iPod...need to spend some time listening to it, huh?

Soundtrack/Song playing right now: Some local Buenos Aires station. Unfortunately, nothing I picked because I must use the public computers.

Six songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me: Wow, this is going to be hard:
1. Leather- Tori Amos
2. Island- Heather Nova
3. #41- Dave Matthews Band
4. Private Radio- Vanessa Carlton
5. Mr. Jones- Counting Crows
6. Letter to a John- Ani DiFranco

Five (or ten) albums I can listen to over and over from start to finish - Greatest Hits don't count:
1. All of my Tori Amos CDS
2. All of my Dave Matthews CDS
3. Out of Range- Ani DiFranco
4. Breakaway- Kelly Clarkson (It's so much better than her first)
5. Harmonium- Vanessa Carlton
6. All Counting Crows CDS
7. Morning View- Incubus
There are so many more but my head hurts and I need to join SarahT for a coffee!

I know that as soon as I post this the post I sweated over yesterday for A* will show up.

In the meantime I'll talk about our first experience hitting the bars in Buenos Aires.

Poor SarahT wasn't feeling so well last night but Becca and I fancied a night on the town. We decided to go to a nearby neighbourhood called Las Canitas to a bar we'd read about in the very recent Time Out Buenos Aires. The taxi dropped us off on a hopping road and we jumped out excited for our evening. We walked up Baez once. Couldn't see Voodoo Lounge. Tried again. We walked up and down the road 3 times, looking like complete dorks, only to realise that the place had disappeared. We decided to go into a lively bar on the opposite side of the road- thankful there were other bars around.

It was the first Wednesday of the month and according to our waitress this was when all the Dutch people come out and celebrate at the Dutch bar we were in. Fancy that. No wonder there were so many tall, blonde people. I enjoyed my 16 peso vodka washed down with water (She said soda back to me, I'm not sure where the translation was lost there) then headed over to Jackie O's, which had been recommended to us.

I opted for the beer this time and the Iguana cervaza went down nicely.

Unfortunately, a skeevy gentleman decided he wanted to be part of our conversation too. Even after much protesting, in English, that we didn't want to speak to him and lots of ignoring and scary looks from the oh-so-goofy bartender (we dubbed Fred) the guy just wanted stop asking us if we like horses. In Spanish.

Oy. Skeevy men are all the same. No matter what language they speak.