first tango…

so i’ve had the pleasure of Karen’s company again tonight, this will be brief as it’s 2am and i’ve enjoyed way too much malbec wine from mendoza, argentina. we started off searching for a 2 bedroom apartment together online and after a lot of places either in an undesirable neighorhood, too much money, or simply rude pompous emails from the owner/property manager about they simply dont give a sh*t if we rent from them or not but regardless they dont show the apartment, ever, so rent it and try your luck kind of thing. f*ckers.

we went to dinner down the street since Paz, the owner of the guesthouse, called ahead to tell them of our arrival. they didnt start serving any food until 10, being 9 and already pushing my personal limits of lack of food plus wine, i had to say sorry senor, we’ll be back for the tango show AFTER we ate a proper meal. btw, i found a terrific Thai restaurant at Tres Sargiento and Reconquista for lunch. Kevin, the blatantly gay owner from New Jersey was friendly despite his arrogant Argentine staff and it was so refreshing just to talk to a fellow American. He’s been in BA for 14 years and says the locals are really taking to the idea of spices outside of salt and pepper. they have 3 P’s: pizza, pasta and parilla solement. solo. only. welcome to the new world argentina, we have something called F-l-a-v-o-r, i think you will like. they serve a lot of jamon or ham of which i am not a fan except for bacon. so to find a sandwhich or pizza or torta without is impossible and i often go hungry here. i’ve not found typical argentine cuisine especially inspiring, except for Freddo.

i enjoyed chicken soup with lemon grass and coconout milk, i forgot how splendid it is to eat food with flavor, like my taste buds were on ecstasy, i think i may have drooled.

ah yes, so i was so hungry at 9 so we went on the hunt for empanaadas con carne. found it at norton hotel, plus a cesear salad that was not even close to my favorite in the world that Lin makes, your status as cesear hostess with the mostess is secure. calamarie was too salty.

we returned to peppers something or other and sat at the table reserved for us. despite knowing we are friend’s of Paz’s he was unfriendly, surprise. when will that not seem like terribly bad and unnecessary manners?

the point of being there was to watch a local tango show. there are not many places to see in this part of town and i’d not yet seen. so we returned to drink more wine and enjoy crepe de duche de leche which i had apparently ordered to arrive in 1 hour. life here is full of surprises!

the couple came down and danced to live music, she was smiling which surprised me a little, wasnt she supposed to look like she was in pain or something close to that? (sorry, i cant take many things except my own grief and unhappiness too seriously) then they went upstairs, thats it we thought? well no, they returned, WITH a change of costume at least she had on another dress, this one turquise and it was simply stunning. they danced, i watched with the utmost interest. we drank.

to my surprise, the man came up to me and put out his hand and being dancer i know “that hand”, it means dance with me you know you want to and i didnt even THINK of refusing. he whispered something to me that i didnt understand and i replied saying i love to dance. thats all it took for him to know and he said you speak english, i said yes and he said where are you from, i said san francisco and i closed my eyes and just followed his lead. as a trained dancer that feels the music in my blood, its just divine to feel so at ease to dance with another with my eyes closed, my brain off, and my body just responds naturally to what he asking of me. i found myself doing some intricate here and there push pulls, twists, slow fast fast slow, crap this is starting to sound like porn, its just something i feel, to dance like that, not that common, he was a wonderful first tango. apparently the entire restaurant was watching us but i didnt care, eyes closed it like coming home.

karen took some photos i will post. for now, i’m inspired. i’m going to stay here if for no reason other than to dance the tango with these people and be in a place that transcends language, class or ego and instead returns us to our natural instincts and desires to be close to another, to be carried away in the moment, and enjoy the moment without attachments.

its 2:30am and as i’ve got quite a buzz on, i’m off to bed.

tomorrow i decided not to go to the estancia, ranch, since rain is on the way. instead karen and i will lunch at thai heaven and visit some apartments. this one we found looks exquisito except that i got a rather rude and arrogant email from them saying they dont ever “show” apartments and instead i should consult with agencies that will allow us to view over the weekend and if nothing else we can always return to them and pay them sight unseen, as they originally demanded. this kind of antics is the likes of a third world country or crazy people that simply dont need money, which i’ve yet to meet here in sudamerica. so what is the problem? i admit, it makes me suspcious and it might explain why this apartment is available when so many others are ot. this is the link to what i have named as “f*cker place” http://www.buenosaireshabitat.com/apartment_n341.html

part of me wants to politely return the email with regrets that we cannot possibly lower our standards of common decency to the level they request and the other part says what the hell, its gorgeously appointed and superbly located downtown near endless sights. its impossibly close to thai heaven, my spanish school, and the bus station out of town. what more can i ask for?

update on the spa scene: karen and i were going to soak in the tub tonight but turns out she is as much of a internet junkie and lays potoate chips as me and ended up getting out of the house too late. when she started to think about where her bathing suit might be, it reminded me of my experience the other night. it was almost 8 when i got in the tub and i didnt want to walk home so late at night with wet hair and alas, there was a hair cap in the robe pocket, or so i thought. the first thing was strange, not a hair cap. oh another one, well it was obvious it was trunks, shorts, underwear to wear in the tub. why? i have no idea, its totally private. so being the resourceful one, i simply put the shorts on my head to keep my hair on the water. i thought of how silly i must look at laughed, this is the first time i have ever worn undewear on my head and you know its not so bad.

sunday we are going to the market near the cemetary. karen has a thing for black and white photos. i’m having a great time seeing things with her, she has a similar sense of humor and we have many private jokes now. She lent me a mag from New Zealand with a picture of a celebrities butt with the headlines: “Hungry Bum” what does that mean. that was to be the title of my post tonight until that man asked me for my first dance.

its hard to explain but i am appreciating some of the intracacies of BA and i’m eager to dance. again. eyes closed with no mind for reason.