Last night I faced the truth: I need to seize the day and explore more of Argentina. I was reading a few blogs by expats and I couldn’t help but notice how little of Buenos Aires I have explored compared to them. While I was falling asleep I thought about the top five things I want to do while I’m here. They are, in no particular order:
1. Visit Patagonia. For this I would have to hop on a plane. An Argentine plane. Considering that I have a fear of flying, I would have to learn what type of plane would carry me there and then make it happen. Valium, it’s all about the Valium.
2. Enjoy a closed-door restaurant in Buenos Aires. Problem is I have no one to go with. My biggest fear is that I would be the only guest who can’t speak Spanish. Closed-door restaurants occur in the home of the chef, and the menus change weekly. The snag is that you’re not offered a choice of dishes and you have to eat whatever the chef prepares for that evening. Right now I have my eyes locked on Max’s Supper Club but maybe I’m too old to enjoy the company of hipsters. I dunno.
3. Write an article for The Expeditioner Online Travel Magazine. What to write about though? I don’t think I’ve been here long enough to bestow pearls of wisdom on would-be visitors. However I’ve been thinking about some of my experiences thus far and perhaps a personal story would be sufficient. People always appreciate personal anecdotes as opposed to reviews. At least I do anyway.
4. Learn Spanish. My Spanish teacher has a little arrogant streak when it comes to his language. For starters he has this belief that if he keeps saying the name of a specific word in Spanish I will miraculously know how to spell it. Eventually I give up and feel stupid, which I maintain is his ultimate goal. I don’t know what part of “please spell the word for me,” he doesn’t understand. From Argentines I have learned what not to do when teaching someone a new language because they actively find ways to embarrass you once you try. If I knew how to speak Spanish this wouldn’t be a problem.
5. Last but certainly not least I would like to stay up until 4 a.m. This is what Argentines do. They stay up late and sleep in. I am in bed at 10 p.m. every night, which is when Argentines eat dinner. This will continue to be a problem if I ever want to “blend in.”
Blending in is proving difficult. I am often gawked at by people while walking on the street and I’m trying to determine why this is happening. At first I thought it was because of my clothing; Argentines tend to wear subtle colours, and I don’t. I like red, and yellow and green. Argentines love wearing denim on denim. This means denim trousers, matched with a denim collared shirt with a denim jacket. I don’t know why but they fucking love it.
Then I thought it was because they think I am really gay. My gaydar is ineffective in Argentina because the men are very concerned about being masculine. Even gay men have a fear of being too effeminate and make remarks about gay men who aren’t manly’ enough. So maybe I’m too gay.
Then I thought it was because I’m white, but there are many people here with the same complexion as me, so I have ruled that out as a possibility.
So what I’m left with is that I’m too gay.
Oh well. You can’t be too much of anything. Too gay means I’m happy all of the time. Right?