Since Erin has meat-fever, I've been asked to take her place temporarily and write a "Guest Blog Post." It promises to be exciting times for all of us here on the blog.
So, how to describe Buenos Aires? The first thing any discerning traveler will notice is the feces. It's everywhere. No sidewalk is complete without its trail of poop, no doorstep goes unturded. I don't mention it just because it's poop, but because it's such an omnipresent fact of our lives here. It alters the way we interact with the city. One develops a kind of "poop sixth sense" as our flatmate, Aimee, calls it, a sense specifically devoted to intuiting where poop is or might be at any given moment. Even so, it's something we've all stepped in.
Where does poop come from?
 |
Dogs in sweaters. All dogs in Buenos Aires are required by law to wear sweaters, particularly the dogs without owners who nose in the trash next to meat stands. In Buenos Aires, a dog without a sweater is like a bandana that someone forgot to tie-dye before the Phish concert. Another salient fact of Argentine life: no one here has ever heard of Phish. This was Erin's reaction when she found out:
Also, the porteños are a psychologico-spiritual people, as evidenced by the mass attendance at this Sri Sri Ravi Shankar rally, and by this New York Times article about therapy. They love Freud and they love everyone who loves Freud, except their mothers and fathers. Here I am trying to be spiritual at the dinner table again:
And this is a typical weekend: lots of meat, a pony, men riding horses down the street.
Oranges, the obsession:
 |
| Candied orange, lemon, and grapefruit peel, and ginger. |
Erin preparing to vanquish dinner:
 |
Ruthless is Erin's attitude towards the poor scallopini:
Finally, we have dinner and take turns playing that old game of Who Can Beat the Egg Whites.
 |
| This is 2 kilos of pork shoulder, a whole chicken, and everything else and more we needed for Birthday Party TACO NITE! |
