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!