I have 10 days left in Argentina, assuming I don't get consumed by a whale in Tierra del Fuego this weekend. That means it's time for some end-of-the-semester lists, including what I miss from home and what I will and will not miss about Buenos Aires. Not surprisingly, most of the entries are food-related.
So here's the first of the series: the five things I'll miss the most about Buenos Aires. Despite the complaining I've done from time to time, I've grown to enjoy this city quite a bit.
1. Being legal. This one's obvious. I've never been carded here, or seen anyone carded for that matter, which probably represents a laxer and more logical cultural approach to drinking. But this cultural approach kicks ass. It is going to suck going back to the United States and having to wait eight months before I can drink terrible cheap beer at a sports bar, or because I'm classy, ordering a glass of wine in a pub. Also, discussing the U.S. drinking age has become a reliable bonding technique with foreigners. Their initial looks of shock soon turn to pity, and then BOOM! Instant friends.
2. Bread lady. At first I called them giant hot slabs of bread. Then for a while I switched to calling them tortillas. Then my Spanish teacher told me I was wrong and now I don't know what to call them. Whatever they're called, they were the highlight of my Wednesdays down here. Once a week I would buy one, eat part of it while getting smushed on the Subte, discreetly eat some more in the food-free computer lab, and polish it off in Spanish class in a purposely conspicuous manner so the world could see what I'd done.
Bread lady had an erratic schedule. If it was raining, all bets were off; she wasn't showing up. Sometimes she packed up shop in the afternoon, other days she'd stay well into the night, shelling out the toasty bread long after the sun had set. Her timing fascinated me such that every day when emerging from the Subte steps onto the sidewalk, regardless of the time of day or night, I would instinctively look behind to the curb to see if bread lady and her faithful sidekick were there.
One day, when walking home from the Subte, I stopped and bought one. "Don't you usually come in the morning?" she asked. This is one of my proudest memories here.
3. Protests you can dance to. A Buenos Aires protest typically consists of three elements: hundreds of people holding up signs, a few supporting giant banners that take up the width of a street, and a drumline. You know there is a protest going on because you can them pounding away 10 blocks down the street. Fireworks also might give it away. But drums are a staple at every parade, from AIDS awareness to job outsourcing.
4. Steak. It's not fair how good steak is here. Something about free-range and grass or something. I'm not a scientist. And maybe it's just the relatively overwhelming abundance of kosher food that has me on a perpetual meat high, but they know what they're doing down here. Also, it's the only place I've been where a steak costs less than fish or pasta. Being a vegetarian does not pay off financially here like it would in the United States.
5. Timing. The opposite of the sport coach's cliché phrase is true in Argentina. Here, on time is early, and late is on time. Also, very late is on time, and extremely late is on time. My teachers regularly showed up to class half an hour after the scheduled time.
Nightlife timing follows the same principle. Here, dinnertime is usually around 9:30 or 10 p.m. and nightclubs open at 2 a.m. Some clubs offer free entry before 2 a.m. but there's never anyone there so it's practically not worth it. I will miss partying until the sun comes up, or more realistically, until three hours after the sun has risen, around the time when it's so late it's no longer acceptable to refer to today as "tomorrow."
Next up: 5 things I won't miss about Argentina
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