The blissful idiot can eat, shave and drink!

As I write this, I have just achieved a new high in my Spanish language life; I successfully went to the shops, asked for an electric beard trimmer, and received exactly what I asked for! It was markedly different from the time a couple of years ago in Seville when I requested a lime juice from the menu, on a 35 degree day, yet somehow received a steaming hot chocolate which went down like a lead balloon on that particular day.

So yes, I have had my first successful shave in Argentina, next stop is a hair cut at a peluquera, but I’m not sure I’m game enough for that yet. I’ll give it a week.

This last week has been a blur of Spanish classes, internship and partying. Not necessarily in that order. My internship has kicked off well, I’m basically researching which companies offer financial assistance (convocatorias) to Argentinean NGO’s and how to apply for these. My hours are along the lines of 2-6 Monday to Wednesday, but I called in sick yesterday; perfectly legitimately, so I’ll most likely head along on Thursday to make up for it. Business in Argentina is incredibly relaxed about start times, finish times and quality of work by the look of things. 

Today at work I received a pleasant surprise; I was invited by the head of RACI to join him and the Australian ambassador to Argentina, as well as other guests, for a cocktail party hosted by the Australian Residence in Buenos Aires. Fair to say I was pretty chuffed and thoroughly shitting myself at the same time on acceptance. I don’t even own a suit here! Although I feel obliged to partake in as many cocktails as possible whilst they are funded by, for want of an insult, Tony Abbot, whilst simultaneously stimulating the economy of Argentina. That’s killing two birds that I care about with one stone. Once I find a suit that is up to the task of finding me employment in the Australian Public Service in Argentina (that makes sense, read it again) I shall post a smashing picture of it for you all to appreciate. I only wish I had of brought a certain white Jamaican jacket for this one night.

Onto the more active side of things now: Hugh’s social life. Drum roll please. We now have four people in our apartment and there are plenty more opportunities to make new acquaintances and add more names to the list of people that we can potentially invite to a fiesta later this month. This is basically the key to social networking in Buenos Aires I think; having the ability to be able to make a few calls and have a respectable party within 2 hours. This is the pinnacle that people from Buenos Aires, Porteños, aspire to. I feel we are getting there.

On Saturday night there was a complementary pub crawl for St. Patrick’s day, so I donned a green shirt and jeans that, little did I know, would last me for the next three days and ventured into the raggedy streets of Palermo with my two compa. The night was excellent, parades down streets, green shots, green beers, green girls and free pizza, honestly, what more does one need? Oh that’s right, being kidnapped by two Colombianas and being forced to drink shots of their beloved Aguadiente (think watered-down ouzo) until 7 in the morning in their apartment before curing the hangover in their rooftop jacuzzi the next day. Yes that did happen, and yes, they did not sell me for drug money so stop the stereotyping please.

Sunday was a write off, as was Monday, mostly due to the horribleness of Aguadiente the night before and the availability of delivered food items. I feel that Buenos Aires is a leader in this crucial area. This particular Sunday involved a pizza and nine delicious bite sized packets of tasty goodness know throughout the Latin World as empanadas. If I could live off a single street food, which, two weeks into my trip I kind of have, they would be empanadas. Chicken or beef, cheese or spinach, sweet or spicy, hot or cold, baked or fried or a little mix of all, they are mind-blowingly good, cheap, and loaded with carbohydrates to get you through those long, tough days of hungover nothingness.

Food, what a beautiful thing, and common to this particular post. We partook in our first proper Argentinean steak on Friday night. A nice restaurant (second most recommended in Lonely Planet) called Don Julios, had the privilege of hosting myself, Karlien and a German friend, Florian, for several hours. My bife de chorizo (sirloin steak) was something else, about 4cm thick and weighing in at 600 grams this heavyweight required some hunger to consume. Needless to say I put him to bed no worries. The red wine from Argentina is excellent, most notable is the Malbec which is a type of Cabernet Sauvignon and available anywhere. We deliberately didn’t show our true backpacking colours and order the cheapest, so we went about a tenth of the way up the list and settled on the 2011 vintage from Mendoza, the most popular wine region in Argentina. It was shit hot.

After the bottle was consumed, our waiter brought us out a pen to write a message on the label, the bottle was then put on top of a shelf with the thousands of others that dotted the cosy restaurant. My message on the bottle was ‘a top-notch feed’, I went for authenticity rather than a shower of bull-shit compliments that mean less than a Shane Warne commitment. But to each their own.

So that, my friends, is a snippet of what I have been up to this past week and a bit.

Today I almost had an out of body experience, where I could see myself doing these things, and I felt this wonderful sense of ‘I can do this’, whatever ‘this’ is. Is it life? Did I have an epitome of actually realising I can ‘do life’? I think I did. Maybe I just had a wicked day, where things just happened to go my way, or maybe I appreciated how bloody lucky I am to be able to be here at this time, and to know that I’m legitimately happy. Maybe I’m just easily impressed with life, maybe I’m just one of those guys who walks around with an idiotic smile on his face and, while the world laughs, stops and smells the roses. Yeah, I think I am that guy – but the good thing is, I’m pretty proud to be able to say that I am happy to be that guy.

Yours in blissful idiocy,

Hugh

“Like all great travelers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.” – Benjamin Disraeli