Upon realizing that I was leaving Argentina very soon, I decided I needed to eat all the food I find delicious and unavailable in America. I made a point to visit to my Panaderia friends. If you remember from my last story, it was at this tremendous place that I had a mini love affair with cattle...or rather me falling in love, head over heals style, with consuming it in it´s entirety. Yesterday was NO exception. We had Pollo Disco. It may actually be Pollo con Disco, Pollo de Disco, or Pollo y Disco, but I´m in a chicken haze and am unable to recall the correct naming. The reason may be because of the amount of food. Sergio cooked 3 chickens. There were only 6 of us. In addition, this dish consists of the amount of garlic equivalent to the amount of Botox in Joan Rivers face. You can bet I smelled rustic!
Post consuming my weight and beyond in garlic, chicken, and various other vegetables, I went to meet my friend in order to discuss our travel plans. I was getting nervous since the initial plan was to leave on Tuesday and neither of us had our bus tickets as of Sunday afternoon. (And being that today, Monday, is a holiday). We sat down and immediately she yanks out 2 pieces of paper and says, SURPRISE. She has bought the tickets. I know I will enjoy traveling with this gal. We celebrated with a beer, purchased the essentials for the 9 hour bus ride, crackers and dulce de leche (no, I didn´t buy wine.........they serve it to you on the bus) and parted ways. There was a point where I skipped down the road to express my excitement.
Even though I ate what felt like the food rationed for a small, third world country (and yes, I realize the irony of me actually being in a third world country), I still decided on dinner. (Ciao hard work done at the gym). It was delicious and even consisted of Champagne and cocktails...My kinda dinner. Andreita asked me earlier if I wanted to attend a Boliche with her that evening. I really didn´t want to think up of a reason why I didn´t want to go, so instead I blatantly said, Nope!
While sitting at the dinner table, she leans to me and in English says, ¨I´m going somewhere tonight and you have to come with me.¨ It felt like a mafia deal while I ate my slice of pizza. I said, okay and asked where she was going, hesitating in fear of hearing some deserted house, or even crazier, a Boliche. She wouldn´t tell me and I got nervous. She just kept insisting that I need to come. Then it occurred to me, we were going to a Night Fight. I got pumped, only wishing I had packed my brass knuckles. I changed out of my stretchy yoga pants, aka unattractive sweats, and packed my Swiss Army Knife. (Naturally if I´m in a night fight, I will tell someone to pause a moment before clubbing me like a baby seal to prepare Le weapon of choice......stainless steel baby, complete with a Philip´s Head and plastic tooth pick). After her friends came to pick us up, and we arrived at his house, it was clear to me that there was no night fight. (Boo). There was, however, a surprise Bon Voyage Fiesta for me, complete with chips booze, and music. (Yay). And actually there was a Machete involved, but only for picture purposes apparently before I arrived.
For 2 hours we danced and hung out, ate chips, took endless photos that if I had a Facebook account, I would post immediately with ridiculous comments. Around 2 am, I was ready to check out. We all piled into the car, 7 of us in a VW Fox, (insert Popes in a Volks Wagon joke here) and started to drive. I had mini deja vu. First, This was a dangerous experience...Cautious Courtney not only is always prepared with lice shampoo and plastic zip lock bags, but I´m a seat belt advocate. I love them. Lap-sitting last night, consequentially, did not permit for such safety habits. No biggie, seeing as we were just going 5 minutes across Villa Allende. Deja vu kicked in when I realized we were driving to the city....at 2 30 in the morning. No, this driver is not particularly dangerous, and I wasn´t even worried when I had to duck when we drove by the police 2 separate times. Needless to say, at this point, I am concerned for the poor lap I´m occupying. Kidding I was not when illustrating how much garlic I consumed earlier. I also forgot to mention a combination of other things. Everything else I ate that day (this is not a lie) contained onions. I didn´t expect to make an evening for myself, so maybe I wasn´t wearing much deodorant (or any). Finally, 7 people in a bedroom dancing and having a good time created for a very sweaty atmosphere. My fear is that I really will be known as the Stinky American. Oh well, lucky for Argentina, I usually smell of roses and fantasticness, one night will be okay.
Well, we arrive in the city around 3, and roll out of the car. We walked around for half an hour, and left. At about 2.57, I lost my patience and just wanted to leave. I´m not one for walking random streets in foreign cities past midnight with no plan or liquor. We re-pile in the peanut sized automobile, and head home. Though the ending got a little random, and though the evening lacked a night fight, I was graciously thankful and happy for MY fiesta.
Finally, I finished my final days with the 2 places I was volunteering. For everyone who said, I´d be so attached to the kids and special people and cry when I left, please reference this blog as an ¨I told you so.¨ No, I did not cry. Who do you think I am? You may also use this as me giving in to my black heart when I say, I was indeed a bit sad. It was hard to leave the both places, especially when the kids ran to me daily shouting ¨Coni! Coni.¨ (Because this is how everyone under the age of 10 pronounced my name. For everyone older it was either ¨Courrley or Corrrney¨). I also received a mini goodbye party from the kids. I think they were more interested in the cake and balloons, nevertheless, we had a marvelous time.
I´m off to eat Locro. Yes, this is a federal holiday, and it´s a big deal...and yes, I did tell everyone I saw all weekend, not Feliz Dia de Patria, but Felize dia de Locro! I´m celebrating the food... after all, this ain´t my country to be patriotic about!
Feliz Dia!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Beyoncé in Cordoba
I attended another birthday party last night. It was for Tati, a friends of Andrieta´s and a girl who witnessed one of my Boliche experiences. I was told it was a family thing and we needed to go, make an appearance, and get home. I though that was okay, seeing that my sultry man-voice causing sickness has now morphed into something rather tacky, complete with the hack of a 90 year old chain smoker and nasal drip that could flood Sri Lanka.
We arrive at Casa de Tati, and are greeted with a plate of food. And it was GOOD food. I looked around, said hello to a few people, and went to town on the empanadas. I noticed on the tables, there was a lot of beer and wine present. Cha-Ching! How can I make this cold better, you ask? Add immune weakening booze to the system, Duh! I finally rationalized it so I could defend my thirsty ways with the idea that booze is good for the throat. So, as the host came to ask us what we wanted to drink, the 3 kids I arrived with answered ¨Coke¨, and that sneaky woman, caught me with an entire empanada in my mouth. I contemplated spitting it out on her just so I could ask for a beer, but that host was a swift one, and before I could down the grotesque amount of animal carcass and bread jammed in my mouth, she was back with massive glasses of coke...or Pepsi.
(Another defeat for Courtney in Argentina).
We stayed around for about 30 more minutes, bundled up, and hit the road. Villa Allende is a smaller town, and it would have only taken around 5-10 minutes to get home, but I realized we were going in the opposite direction. Hmm. I didn´t ask any questions as the scratchy Spanish music stations were too loud, and my position (where my legs were splayed rather innapprotiately around the back of the drivers seat of the 1979 Geo Metro sized automobile) did not permit leaning over and shouting. I realized after about 15 minutes that we are going to the City. Well, I´m okay with this. Maybe they´ll stop for coffee or tea, and I´ll stop for a double vodka on the rocks, lemon please, because I´m sick.
I should know better.
We got to the city, and drove in and around the city. We passed many a pub and restaurant where people sat outside drinking (One of my most favorite things EVER) and laughing....taunting me. I considered at a stoplight to exhale on the window I was pressed up against and write the word ¨H.E.L.P¨ on it. Perhaps someone would feel bad and run over and let me sip their cocktail from a straw through a crack I would have made in the window. That too, did not happen. I was however, was getting curious where we were headed. About 5 minutes later we were on our way back to Villa Allende... We were headed nowhere.
(I would have been cool with it if were were heading to Nowhere, a very cool, random gay bar in NYC, but that´s neither here nor there...it´s Nowhere).
Yes, that´s correct, we drove 20 minutes to the city, 20 minutes around the city, and 20 minutes back (in a DEATH TRAP) to kill time. The highlight was when Beyonce came on the radio. (Those of you who worked with me last summer or had the privilege of being in a car with me for more than six minutes understand my deep connection with Beyonce. It´s not MY fault if I was late to work because the radio timed her 5 minute song wrong and at 2 minutes to four pm I was in the parking lot screaming those lyrics for 3 minutes). Either way, I chanted in delight with my diva and realized that I had NO VOICE to sing. I wanted people to know what would happen IF I WERE A BOY!!! Sadly, mouthing the words had to suffice, because even I didn´t want to be subjected to my teeth clenching performance of Beyonce. Whatev
I´m off to purchase extra-strength cough medicine. I can´t go another day knowing my vocal cords are unable to replicate the sounds of Sasha Fierce!
Toodles
We arrive at Casa de Tati, and are greeted with a plate of food. And it was GOOD food. I looked around, said hello to a few people, and went to town on the empanadas. I noticed on the tables, there was a lot of beer and wine present. Cha-Ching! How can I make this cold better, you ask? Add immune weakening booze to the system, Duh! I finally rationalized it so I could defend my thirsty ways with the idea that booze is good for the throat. So, as the host came to ask us what we wanted to drink, the 3 kids I arrived with answered ¨Coke¨, and that sneaky woman, caught me with an entire empanada in my mouth. I contemplated spitting it out on her just so I could ask for a beer, but that host was a swift one, and before I could down the grotesque amount of animal carcass and bread jammed in my mouth, she was back with massive glasses of coke...or Pepsi.
(Another defeat for Courtney in Argentina).
We stayed around for about 30 more minutes, bundled up, and hit the road. Villa Allende is a smaller town, and it would have only taken around 5-10 minutes to get home, but I realized we were going in the opposite direction. Hmm. I didn´t ask any questions as the scratchy Spanish music stations were too loud, and my position (where my legs were splayed rather innapprotiately around the back of the drivers seat of the 1979 Geo Metro sized automobile) did not permit leaning over and shouting. I realized after about 15 minutes that we are going to the City. Well, I´m okay with this. Maybe they´ll stop for coffee or tea, and I´ll stop for a double vodka on the rocks, lemon please, because I´m sick.
I should know better.
We got to the city, and drove in and around the city. We passed many a pub and restaurant where people sat outside drinking (One of my most favorite things EVER) and laughing....taunting me. I considered at a stoplight to exhale on the window I was pressed up against and write the word ¨H.E.L.P¨ on it. Perhaps someone would feel bad and run over and let me sip their cocktail from a straw through a crack I would have made in the window. That too, did not happen. I was however, was getting curious where we were headed. About 5 minutes later we were on our way back to Villa Allende... We were headed nowhere.
(I would have been cool with it if were were heading to Nowhere, a very cool, random gay bar in NYC, but that´s neither here nor there...it´s Nowhere).
Yes, that´s correct, we drove 20 minutes to the city, 20 minutes around the city, and 20 minutes back (in a DEATH TRAP) to kill time. The highlight was when Beyonce came on the radio. (Those of you who worked with me last summer or had the privilege of being in a car with me for more than six minutes understand my deep connection with Beyonce. It´s not MY fault if I was late to work because the radio timed her 5 minute song wrong and at 2 minutes to four pm I was in the parking lot screaming those lyrics for 3 minutes). Either way, I chanted in delight with my diva and realized that I had NO VOICE to sing. I wanted people to know what would happen IF I WERE A BOY!!! Sadly, mouthing the words had to suffice, because even I didn´t want to be subjected to my teeth clenching performance of Beyonce. Whatev
I´m off to purchase extra-strength cough medicine. I can´t go another day knowing my vocal cords are unable to replicate the sounds of Sasha Fierce!
Toodles
Monday, May 18, 2009
Bidet to you, Sir
I cannot believe I did not mention this from day 1. Maybe because I had a tryst-like experience with it today, it deserves some mentioning.
So, the bidet is very common here in Argentina. In almost every house, and many public places I have been to, there has been a bidet. I wasn´t overly confused as many are the first time they see one, but I was shocked. I figured these were mainly an older European commonality, and to be fair, they did originate in France. In yet another United States Vs. Argentina conversation I had with The Mother, she asked why we didn´t have them in The States. To be quite honest, I wasn´t sure. But you bet I invented a damn good reason after her statement:
¨Todos Los Yankee´s (pronounced Zhankees) tienen culos sucios.¨ -TRANSLATION- All of those American´s have dirty asses.
Oh no she didn´t, (snap)!!!
So I began with the false fact that bidets are in Argentina because it´s a third world country and many years ago, the poorer people couldn´t afford toilet paper. (With this, I thought I was golden, nothing more to be said). The Mother then contradicted my faux history and said that poor people don´t have bidets, that it´s for the mid-upper class. Poorer people cannot afford them.
(Shit).
I then followed with the ever-so made up idea that the bidet is an invention that is derived from poverty stricken individuals who cleansed them selves post potty usage. True, they didn´t have a bidet, however, these people also couldn´t afford the luxury of paper, especially to waste on tushy cleaning, so they washed their tokus in a lake or river, and those more advanced used a bucket of water near their area of waste depositing. I capped it off with the idea that since the US is not a third world country, there was no need for the invention, as we have something more glorious, Charmin 2ply Toilet Paper.
They bought it and I had an immediate and brief thought that I should attend Law School.
My fictitious story still did not stop me from the occasional squat on the bidet. When in Rome....or in my case, When in Argentina....
This was just fine and dandy until this morning. I was hanging out in the bathroom, and decided to get down with the bidet. I have used it a few times here, and mostly it´s just cold and I can barley sit there for more than a second. (I found it great for washing my feet instead). But today I got the nerve and Frenched up to sit down. As my luck would have it, I turned it on just enough to graze my bare bum, and apparently that wasn´t enough. The pipes immediately shot a forceful stream of water ( which should only to be used by fire hoses) in my anal cavity. If felt similar to what I´d imagine an enema feels like- not horrible, but so unexpected I yelped. I did not bargain to be water sodomized this morning, but hey, you can´t win em´ all.
I don´t think I´ll be fraternizing with the bidet in my time left here, it was too aggressive. I usually prefer someone buy me a drink and maybe take me on a date before we get that familiar with the downstairs backdoor. If anything, my hope is that The Mother doesn´t google the History of the Bidet and find out my lying tendencies. Nevertheless, on the ´hole,´ (Pun Intended) it was an experience to mention!
Bidet to you!
So, the bidet is very common here in Argentina. In almost every house, and many public places I have been to, there has been a bidet. I wasn´t overly confused as many are the first time they see one, but I was shocked. I figured these were mainly an older European commonality, and to be fair, they did originate in France. In yet another United States Vs. Argentina conversation I had with The Mother, she asked why we didn´t have them in The States. To be quite honest, I wasn´t sure. But you bet I invented a damn good reason after her statement:
¨Todos Los Yankee´s (pronounced Zhankees) tienen culos sucios.¨ -TRANSLATION- All of those American´s have dirty asses.
Oh no she didn´t, (snap)!!!
So I began with the false fact that bidets are in Argentina because it´s a third world country and many years ago, the poorer people couldn´t afford toilet paper. (With this, I thought I was golden, nothing more to be said). The Mother then contradicted my faux history and said that poor people don´t have bidets, that it´s for the mid-upper class. Poorer people cannot afford them.
(Shit).
I then followed with the ever-so made up idea that the bidet is an invention that is derived from poverty stricken individuals who cleansed them selves post potty usage. True, they didn´t have a bidet, however, these people also couldn´t afford the luxury of paper, especially to waste on tushy cleaning, so they washed their tokus in a lake or river, and those more advanced used a bucket of water near their area of waste depositing. I capped it off with the idea that since the US is not a third world country, there was no need for the invention, as we have something more glorious, Charmin 2ply Toilet Paper.
They bought it and I had an immediate and brief thought that I should attend Law School.
My fictitious story still did not stop me from the occasional squat on the bidet. When in Rome....or in my case, When in Argentina....
This was just fine and dandy until this morning. I was hanging out in the bathroom, and decided to get down with the bidet. I have used it a few times here, and mostly it´s just cold and I can barley sit there for more than a second. (I found it great for washing my feet instead). But today I got the nerve and Frenched up to sit down. As my luck would have it, I turned it on just enough to graze my bare bum, and apparently that wasn´t enough. The pipes immediately shot a forceful stream of water ( which should only to be used by fire hoses) in my anal cavity. If felt similar to what I´d imagine an enema feels like- not horrible, but so unexpected I yelped. I did not bargain to be water sodomized this morning, but hey, you can´t win em´ all.
I don´t think I´ll be fraternizing with the bidet in my time left here, it was too aggressive. I usually prefer someone buy me a drink and maybe take me on a date before we get that familiar with the downstairs backdoor. If anything, my hope is that The Mother doesn´t google the History of the Bidet and find out my lying tendencies. Nevertheless, on the ´hole,´ (Pun Intended) it was an experience to mention!
Bidet to you!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Sick and Sultry
For a long time after arriving here in Argentina, I cursed all of the winter clothing I brought. The jacket I gladly jammed into my (borrowed) traveling backpack, the scarf I haphazardly flung in the back of the wardrobe, the WOOL sweaters I used as pillows...all of them mocking me as I slept in a room reading 94 degrees. Well, I take back my blasphemous insults and proclaimed hate towards clothing manufactured for warmth, because today I´m wearing everything I own.
In a matter of days, it went from hot hot hot, to warm days- cool nights, to chilly yet not necessary to put on more than a long sleeve shirt, to me fetching the scarf from the depths of my clothes storage, to me moving the table in front of the heater in a wool sweater, scarf, and tights just to type this. That glorious tan that I raved about will be non existent; just in time for summer in The States. Lounging poolside is no more. (Though I do sometimes peer out the window at the blue hole, drained of its summer debauchery, as if to say I miss you). I knew it was going to be winter at some point during my stay, but I was misled, and confused. I got here with the notion that it would have already been cold...but no. Argentina deceived me, lured me in with it´s taunting sweltering days and large mosquito's- the ones that only the hottest of summer days and nights can bring- and now- stolen right from beneath me.
The best part, and by best, I do mean ironically worst part, is that as soon as the weather changed everyone got sick. Working with 30 children who have constant nose drip isn´t a problem anymore. I fear not lice, I fear not boogers, because for these I have solutions! Larva and Lice shampoo, and Day Quil. Get out of town, Cautious Courtney came prepared. Not only this, but I´m an avid vitamin taker complete with echinacea goldenseal. I was preparing for the storm, ready to watch everyone else drown as I floated by on my wooden door from the Titanic. Apparently the common cold doesn´t give a shit what kind of precautionary measures I took. It waited until my always alert immune system turned its back and launched itself at me, full speed, like a male dog to a bitch in heat.
Fight or Flight quickly kicked into action as I nearly sprinted to the ¨Kisoco¨ for some orange juice and a gallon of water. Being a firm believer that orange juice cures everything when you´re sick, I drank the entire half gallon yesterday. Well, I can´t say that I feel that much better, but I don´t feel worse. In reality, it´s just a tickle in my throat, (not a scratch or a frog, but a tickle) and and a runny nose. I just can´t take the chance of falling ill before my vacay. I have wine to drink while biking through the land- maybe even some glaciers to see. I would rather not do this with said tickle in my throat or snot running down my lips and me be too numb (either from the cold or the booze) to not notice and be the American-Snot-Faced-Girl.
With this, I am off to down some more vitamin c, perhaps pump some water into my body, and get down to planning the vacation.
Oh, the good thing that has surfaced from my throat condition: I have developed this kind of sultry, sexy, deep, voice. Not quite mannish, maybe more transsexual style. Either way, when I speak to my host family, I sound pretty exotic and a little frumpy!
Ciao.
In a matter of days, it went from hot hot hot, to warm days- cool nights, to chilly yet not necessary to put on more than a long sleeve shirt, to me fetching the scarf from the depths of my clothes storage, to me moving the table in front of the heater in a wool sweater, scarf, and tights just to type this. That glorious tan that I raved about will be non existent; just in time for summer in The States. Lounging poolside is no more. (Though I do sometimes peer out the window at the blue hole, drained of its summer debauchery, as if to say I miss you). I knew it was going to be winter at some point during my stay, but I was misled, and confused. I got here with the notion that it would have already been cold...but no. Argentina deceived me, lured me in with it´s taunting sweltering days and large mosquito's- the ones that only the hottest of summer days and nights can bring- and now- stolen right from beneath me.
The best part, and by best, I do mean ironically worst part, is that as soon as the weather changed everyone got sick. Working with 30 children who have constant nose drip isn´t a problem anymore. I fear not lice, I fear not boogers, because for these I have solutions! Larva and Lice shampoo, and Day Quil. Get out of town, Cautious Courtney came prepared. Not only this, but I´m an avid vitamin taker complete with echinacea goldenseal. I was preparing for the storm, ready to watch everyone else drown as I floated by on my wooden door from the Titanic. Apparently the common cold doesn´t give a shit what kind of precautionary measures I took. It waited until my always alert immune system turned its back and launched itself at me, full speed, like a male dog to a bitch in heat.
Fight or Flight quickly kicked into action as I nearly sprinted to the ¨Kisoco¨ for some orange juice and a gallon of water. Being a firm believer that orange juice cures everything when you´re sick, I drank the entire half gallon yesterday. Well, I can´t say that I feel that much better, but I don´t feel worse. In reality, it´s just a tickle in my throat, (not a scratch or a frog, but a tickle) and and a runny nose. I just can´t take the chance of falling ill before my vacay. I have wine to drink while biking through the land- maybe even some glaciers to see. I would rather not do this with said tickle in my throat or snot running down my lips and me be too numb (either from the cold or the booze) to not notice and be the American-Snot-Faced-Girl.
With this, I am off to down some more vitamin c, perhaps pump some water into my body, and get down to planning the vacation.
Oh, the good thing that has surfaced from my throat condition: I have developed this kind of sultry, sexy, deep, voice. Not quite mannish, maybe more transsexual style. Either way, when I speak to my host family, I sound pretty exotic and a little frumpy!
Ciao.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Happy Anniversary
Happy Anniversary!
One year post graduation...no job...loans on deferment...can someone bring me a margarita???
Maybe I´ll celebrate with vodka, crackers, and cranberry juice...just like graduation morning!
Cheers!
One year post graduation...no job...loans on deferment...can someone bring me a margarita???
Maybe I´ll celebrate with vodka, crackers, and cranberry juice...just like graduation morning!
Cheers!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Author´s note
I made a poor attempt in my editing skills. Please understand that in the sentence ¨Teaching English in Asia, South Korea, China, or Japan,¨ that I wrote in the last update, I am aware that Asia is the continent in which S Korea, China, and Japan are countries. Sorry, yes, I appeared to lack some intelligence, but you should understand it was in grammatical corrections and not geography!
Sayonara
Sayonara
Maybe Asia, Maybe Chile
I was sitting around this brilliantly sunny Sunday and I was hit with that anxiety driven ¨what-do-I-do-with-my-life-now,¨ thought. I decided that having a degree truly helped me none in deciding what I currently want to do. Please, don´t get me wrong... getting a degree was by no means a waste of time or a mistake, but I literally am not too sure what I want to do. Technically, I have an idea, but on how to combine, writing, speaking Spanish, traveling, being green (kinda), helping publicly, promoting safety of health, drinking wine, yoga, and women's rights, all while wearing a snappy outfit and making some good money seems like asking for the golden egg.
So I got on google, and just fudged around and finally came up with a thought.........
Teaching English in Asia, South Korea, China, or Japan.
Okay, this includes traveling, helping publicly, learning a new foreign language, and definitely drinking.
So I went to town on some crazy research. After 3 eye crossing hours staring into a computer, I have found numerous reviews, visa requirements, ways to avoid being scammed, ways to avoid being scammed by reading even more publishing's on things like ¨ways to avoid being scammed,¨ accommodations, resources, pay....... I´m sure I´ll have to sit on this for awhile, (like I would a golden egg), perhaps include various people in on my thoughts, nevertheless, maybe my next stop will be Seoul or Beijing.
On a relatively closer note, I started getting some traveling plans together for my end of Argentina trip. I have about 15 days of free time before I need to venture back to Buenos Aries and get on the USA bound Airbus. I will be traveling with a friend I have since met while volunteering. Our only plan is at some point to venture to Mendoza, AR and do a bike riding wine tour. That´s classy my friends, Courtney on a bike, with a triumphant glass of Malbec in one hand and trying to navigate a bike through foreign land! (I hope I remember how to ride a bike, better do a practice pedal pre wine consumption).
After that adventure, (which I´m sure will become known as the Mendoza incident), there may be some traveling to Chile. This would be great for the mere idea of hitting another South American country, yes, and as well I can update my soon to be expired Visa...in case it´s a big deal at the airport. After that, nothing is set in stone. Hopefully, I will be able to meet up with another friend, a native New Mexican on the Argentine-Chilean trail, and we too can see some sights, drink some (more) wine, and have a good time.
If anyone has information or suggestions on my current travels, perhaps suggestions on Chile and where to visit, or on my Asia-Bound-Adventures, please e mail me!
Also, in a previous story(s), I spoke of the traditional drink mate. I was writing it with an accent over the e like such ¨maté.¨ Thankfully, someone informed me that when putting an accent over the e, the word the becomes the past tense to ¨I Kill.¨ So basically I was telling everyone that I was drinking ¨I killed¨ with the family. Sorry...kinda
And before I forget, Happy Mother´s Day!
So I got on google, and just fudged around and finally came up with a thought.........
Teaching English in Asia, South Korea, China, or Japan.
Okay, this includes traveling, helping publicly, learning a new foreign language, and definitely drinking.
So I went to town on some crazy research. After 3 eye crossing hours staring into a computer, I have found numerous reviews, visa requirements, ways to avoid being scammed, ways to avoid being scammed by reading even more publishing's on things like ¨ways to avoid being scammed,¨ accommodations, resources, pay....... I´m sure I´ll have to sit on this for awhile, (like I would a golden egg), perhaps include various people in on my thoughts, nevertheless, maybe my next stop will be Seoul or Beijing.
On a relatively closer note, I started getting some traveling plans together for my end of Argentina trip. I have about 15 days of free time before I need to venture back to Buenos Aries and get on the USA bound Airbus. I will be traveling with a friend I have since met while volunteering. Our only plan is at some point to venture to Mendoza, AR and do a bike riding wine tour. That´s classy my friends, Courtney on a bike, with a triumphant glass of Malbec in one hand and trying to navigate a bike through foreign land! (I hope I remember how to ride a bike, better do a practice pedal pre wine consumption).
After that adventure, (which I´m sure will become known as the Mendoza incident), there may be some traveling to Chile. This would be great for the mere idea of hitting another South American country, yes, and as well I can update my soon to be expired Visa...in case it´s a big deal at the airport. After that, nothing is set in stone. Hopefully, I will be able to meet up with another friend, a native New Mexican on the Argentine-Chilean trail, and we too can see some sights, drink some (more) wine, and have a good time.
If anyone has information or suggestions on my current travels, perhaps suggestions on Chile and where to visit, or on my Asia-Bound-Adventures, please e mail me!
Also, in a previous story(s), I spoke of the traditional drink mate. I was writing it with an accent over the e like such ¨maté.¨ Thankfully, someone informed me that when putting an accent over the e, the word the becomes the past tense to ¨I Kill.¨ So basically I was telling everyone that I was drinking ¨I killed¨ with the family. Sorry...kinda
And before I forget, Happy Mother´s Day!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Thinking in Blog Status
I have begun to think in Blog mode. I find myself narrating situations Í´m in and trying to precisely remember certain events and details to better replicate in word form for this updating forum. Sometimes it goes well. Other times, however, I look like a fool having a conversation in my head...maybe a drunk person. This is the reason for such a story...
As it may well be aware, I am no stranger to the world of liquor. Perhaps there was a point in my life where I was referred to as a ¨Party Animal¨ or something of the likes. Since graduating college, my ways have slowed some and I no longer have the drink-my-face-off-till-I-vomit, though process, rather I am able to enjoy a cocktail here and there. (Please don´t misunderstand me, there are still times when I do drink my face off and it is possible that there is some vomiting, but it is no longer the goal of an evening, as in Freshman-mid Junior year of college).
Also, since I have ¨matured,¨ I have not become a liquor snob either. I have had my fair share of Crystal Palace and Popov Vodka, I believe my main food group in those hazy years of college was Keystone Light and Natty Ice, and I still have ABSOLUTELY NO PROBLEM with boxed wine. I just find that these days, I prefer when taking a shot of booze, that I shouldn´t need to plug my nose in hopes that it will go down smoother.
I´m also not a wine snob. Sure, I have taken a wine class or two, and I work (worked) in a restaurant that had a fabulous wine selection, but pretty much it comes down to the simple basics. I like the way it tastes. Sometime I try and stick with the ¨red with meat and white with fish,¨ but in the end, I really just want to drink wine, regardless of the food. I don´t know what varietal you pair with crackers, but I´ll probably drink it.
This all being said, I think it´s fair to say that splitting a bottle of wine between 2 people doesn´t make anyone a lush. And I think MANY people would agree that it´s very easy to finish a bottle of wine solo and not be inebriated. If anything, at a slow pace, a bottle of vino can be finished in 4 days, (VERY SLOW PACE) if say a person had one glass every night. Well, that´s just what I did the other day, purchased a delicious Malbec and worked it slow. When it was finished, I was called an Alcoholic. Andrea said that I consumed it so fast. It was meant to be light hearted, and almost funny. My thoughts on me being an alcoholic differ somewhat... I thought f saying something like, ¨What? But you haven´t even seen me go to town yet...wait until you at least see my crazy lazy eyes and hear my slurred speech before you come to that conclusion.¨ I thought it was funny. It got even funnier as the week continued.
A woman I work with was given a bottle of wine. She told my host mother to give it to me because She doesn´t drink the stuff. (How she knows I like wine, who cares. She is a saint). I was taking my Saturday easily pool side...(though the pool was actually drained of water, so technically, I was just hole side) reading my book, and soaking up the sun. Andrieta comes out to the patio and asks me if I would like to drink wine with her. This is unusual, as she doesn´t really like wine, and doesn´t really drink much, especially when it is still daylight. Drinking with the sun, however, is one of my favorite pass times. You can imagine my shock.
My response...(translated into English for your reading pleasure)
¨What? Are you kidding? Please never seriously ask me that again. I always want to drink wine. And I always want to drink wine in the afternoon, sitting outside. What am I doing right now? Yes, sitting outside...and it´s afternoon...let´s make it complete, bring the wine!¨
Well, she brought the wine. It turned out to be rather delicious. Sparkling wine. Not quite champagne status, but white wine with bubbles...if that makes ANY sense. We start sipping and having a merry time. About 3/4 through her glass, she gets up and leaves mid conversation. Weird. Was it something I said? Did I have BO? I couldn´t figure it out. About a minute later she returns (semi colon) I am just about finished with my glass... she has no glass in her hands. She claims it was too fuzzy (not fizzy, fuzzy) and gave it to her mom. Well, I though it was just fuzzy enough, so she offered me some more. Decline I did not, and as she poured my second divine glass, she giggles and calls me an alcoholic. I pay no attention to her and those ridiculous, outlandish statements. (Off with her head).
I realized she gave a little stumble while walking inside. I asked her if she was okay, she claimed the wine hit her a little...all 7 1/2 sips...silly shenanigans.
As we were hanging out, the mom opened the fridge. She immediately pulls out the wine (Easily I could have terminated the remaining liquid, but I suppose I wanted it to appear that I don´t always finish a bottle in one sitting) and laughingly asks where all the wine went. I just smiled, doing math in my head. (4 glasses to a bottle...minus the 3 poured today...leaves about one glass left in the bottle...which is less than half) It all added up, I didn´t see the problem. She looked and said, something along the lines of ¨haha, Courtney drinks a lot of wine, she´s an alcoholic...wino.¨ I got nervous, thinking that they were really starting to think I had a problem. I wanted to explain that 2 glasses was really nothing. It all became clear to me when she told me that it would take her a year to finish a bottle of wine. WHAT?!? A YEAR? I think even the highly preservative injected boxed wine goes bad after a few months. No wonder you don´t like wine, you are usually drinking vinegar!
This enraged me, and I tried to explain how wine went bad after being opened. You have to drink it. The wine wants to be drank, let it fulfill it´s destiny. It´s like putting a toy on the shelf and never playing with it again. How sad. We all saw Toy Story 2, drink the wine!!! Even 4 days is pushing it. It´s my opinion that it should all be consumed in one sitting, staining your teeth and sometimes your carpet, but a year...Oh no. It is clear to me why it seems that I have a problem.
After this informative conversation, I started to replay in my head the Blog format of how I wanted to phrase such a topic. I suppose I looked silly, because Andrieta asked me, ¨what are you doing, are you drunk?¨
...Thus, the vicious circle of thinking and Blogging.
As it may well be aware, I am no stranger to the world of liquor. Perhaps there was a point in my life where I was referred to as a ¨Party Animal¨ or something of the likes. Since graduating college, my ways have slowed some and I no longer have the drink-my-face-off-till-I-vomit, though process, rather I am able to enjoy a cocktail here and there. (Please don´t misunderstand me, there are still times when I do drink my face off and it is possible that there is some vomiting, but it is no longer the goal of an evening, as in Freshman-mid Junior year of college).
Also, since I have ¨matured,¨ I have not become a liquor snob either. I have had my fair share of Crystal Palace and Popov Vodka, I believe my main food group in those hazy years of college was Keystone Light and Natty Ice, and I still have ABSOLUTELY NO PROBLEM with boxed wine. I just find that these days, I prefer when taking a shot of booze, that I shouldn´t need to plug my nose in hopes that it will go down smoother.
I´m also not a wine snob. Sure, I have taken a wine class or two, and I work (worked) in a restaurant that had a fabulous wine selection, but pretty much it comes down to the simple basics. I like the way it tastes. Sometime I try and stick with the ¨red with meat and white with fish,¨ but in the end, I really just want to drink wine, regardless of the food. I don´t know what varietal you pair with crackers, but I´ll probably drink it.
This all being said, I think it´s fair to say that splitting a bottle of wine between 2 people doesn´t make anyone a lush. And I think MANY people would agree that it´s very easy to finish a bottle of wine solo and not be inebriated. If anything, at a slow pace, a bottle of vino can be finished in 4 days, (VERY SLOW PACE) if say a person had one glass every night. Well, that´s just what I did the other day, purchased a delicious Malbec and worked it slow. When it was finished, I was called an Alcoholic. Andrea said that I consumed it so fast. It was meant to be light hearted, and almost funny. My thoughts on me being an alcoholic differ somewhat... I thought f saying something like, ¨What? But you haven´t even seen me go to town yet...wait until you at least see my crazy lazy eyes and hear my slurred speech before you come to that conclusion.¨ I thought it was funny. It got even funnier as the week continued.
A woman I work with was given a bottle of wine. She told my host mother to give it to me because She doesn´t drink the stuff. (How she knows I like wine, who cares. She is a saint). I was taking my Saturday easily pool side...(though the pool was actually drained of water, so technically, I was just hole side) reading my book, and soaking up the sun. Andrieta comes out to the patio and asks me if I would like to drink wine with her. This is unusual, as she doesn´t really like wine, and doesn´t really drink much, especially when it is still daylight. Drinking with the sun, however, is one of my favorite pass times. You can imagine my shock.
My response...(translated into English for your reading pleasure)
¨What? Are you kidding? Please never seriously ask me that again. I always want to drink wine. And I always want to drink wine in the afternoon, sitting outside. What am I doing right now? Yes, sitting outside...and it´s afternoon...let´s make it complete, bring the wine!¨
Well, she brought the wine. It turned out to be rather delicious. Sparkling wine. Not quite champagne status, but white wine with bubbles...if that makes ANY sense. We start sipping and having a merry time. About 3/4 through her glass, she gets up and leaves mid conversation. Weird. Was it something I said? Did I have BO? I couldn´t figure it out. About a minute later she returns (semi colon) I am just about finished with my glass... she has no glass in her hands. She claims it was too fuzzy (not fizzy, fuzzy) and gave it to her mom. Well, I though it was just fuzzy enough, so she offered me some more. Decline I did not, and as she poured my second divine glass, she giggles and calls me an alcoholic. I pay no attention to her and those ridiculous, outlandish statements. (Off with her head).
I realized she gave a little stumble while walking inside. I asked her if she was okay, she claimed the wine hit her a little...all 7 1/2 sips...silly shenanigans.
As we were hanging out, the mom opened the fridge. She immediately pulls out the wine (Easily I could have terminated the remaining liquid, but I suppose I wanted it to appear that I don´t always finish a bottle in one sitting) and laughingly asks where all the wine went. I just smiled, doing math in my head. (4 glasses to a bottle...minus the 3 poured today...leaves about one glass left in the bottle...which is less than half) It all added up, I didn´t see the problem. She looked and said, something along the lines of ¨haha, Courtney drinks a lot of wine, she´s an alcoholic...wino.¨ I got nervous, thinking that they were really starting to think I had a problem. I wanted to explain that 2 glasses was really nothing. It all became clear to me when she told me that it would take her a year to finish a bottle of wine. WHAT?!? A YEAR? I think even the highly preservative injected boxed wine goes bad after a few months. No wonder you don´t like wine, you are usually drinking vinegar!
This enraged me, and I tried to explain how wine went bad after being opened. You have to drink it. The wine wants to be drank, let it fulfill it´s destiny. It´s like putting a toy on the shelf and never playing with it again. How sad. We all saw Toy Story 2, drink the wine!!! Even 4 days is pushing it. It´s my opinion that it should all be consumed in one sitting, staining your teeth and sometimes your carpet, but a year...Oh no. It is clear to me why it seems that I have a problem.
After this informative conversation, I started to replay in my head the Blog format of how I wanted to phrase such a topic. I suppose I looked silly, because Andrieta asked me, ¨what are you doing, are you drunk?¨
...Thus, the vicious circle of thinking and Blogging.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
