Sun of a Beach

So in Argentina, the Thursday and Friday before Easter are Diás de los Santos, holy days. There is no work, and most businesses are closed. This means that I have been on vacation from my vacation for 4 days. It was my thought that I would sun bathe, and read, and drink wine, and eat, and not work out, and hang out for 4 days.

Holy days are work, my friends. I have now been to church more times in the past 4 days than I have in total over the last year. In addition, these are days of sacrifice- no red meat, no booze. I could have opted for the, ¨sorry, I don´t celebrate that way¨ gig, and gone with instead, ¨I only drink wine on these holy days,¨ routine, but I figured that´s NOT what Jeusus would´v done.

In turn, I also was unsure of the egg coloring ritual here. I have a holiday trasition, I love to decorate and drink. Eat and drink. Open presents and drink. Cook and drink. Really, I have been told that ¨I have a holiday problem¨ word for word. So when it turned out that we were not coloring eggs, and that the Easter Bunny hadn´t made a visit here since Full House started playing reruns, a little dissapointment washed over me.

I am pretty particular about holidays in general. My favorite is Thanksgiving, and if things aren´t right, like perhaps the stuffing is made wrong, or the cranberry sauce is hole cranberrys in sauce instead of the jellied kind that glugs out of the tin looking like a fruity replica, I freak out. Two years ago, when I was informd my family was changing the present-opening schedule from before church to after church on Christmas, I almost needed a brown paper bag for breathing purposes. Easter, however, has been one of those holidays that since attending college has fallen at akward times and has less of a novality holiday factor to it. (Sorry, Jesus). What I did experience here on Easter in Argentina was consistant with years past; in the sense it was different than any other, yet filled with family and fun.

After sleeping through church, (I was up VERY late watching Passion of the Christ- geeze Mel Gibson, you think we could make that any bloodier) I awoke to a very normal day. Had some coffee, chated up the fam, and then went to a birthday party in another town. The food was massive, the cake was the size of a toddler, and Budwiser was present for the occasion. Good conversation, which I was able to understand for the most part, and good food- Sounds like the ingredients for a fantastic celebration to me. After returning home, the family sat on the patio, discussing, a wide range of odd things. Birthdays, American fashion, tea, expense of college, how along with America, I too am in massive Student Loan debt, and the difference between ¨sun of a beach¨ and ¨sun of a bitch.¨

The other day when I was asked what insults were thrown around in my homeland, this one came up. I had to explain the difference between sun, sol, and son, hijo. It was then that I realized the English language is a joke. There, their, and they´re...ate and eight, whose, and who´s.... pull and pool? Who came up with this?!? Finally, when speaking to Martita in English, I had to help her with her pronunciation with the word ¨can´t.¨ When said with an accent, it offers a whole new, possibly grotesique and insulting meaning, which I too had to explain. Having everyone in stitches about the word, Andrea, la mamá, began calling everyone this highly inappropriate noun.

...Easter doesn´t get better than that

We finished the night with everyone trying to speak English, and having me say phrases in my native tongue so they could repeat them.

fin