Things I learned today:
1. It doesn’t matter how many years of a language you take or how long you study or how many times your profe writes “fantastico!” on your paper, the locals of whatever country you’re in will always be there to verbally kick you in the nuts as soon as you think you’re able to speak at the level of a 3rd grader.
It’s strange, because I’ve learned to say “Claro” after pretty much every sentence someone says to me, which directly translates to mean “Clearly.” Literally the opposite of clear. If you took a puddle of mud and poured in some marbles and then stirred in some macaroni and a couple bricks, that’s about how “claro” your last sentence was. Actually, I recognized about two-fifths of what you said, ma’am, but I’m going to say “Claro,” walk over to where you’re pointing and hope there’s someone over there who is more patient with a Spanish 3rd grader trapped in the body of a 20-year-old gringa looking for fruit. Thanks so much for your time.
Maybe I’ll start saying “sucio” instead, which means “dirty”. Then people will think I’m coming on to them and trying to make every word they say sound kinky. “The melons are over there.” “Oh, dirty.” Yep, that’s gonna happen.
2. Argentinians value alcohol over food, and pretty much anything else except maybe cleaning supplies. (Señor Clean gets the job done.) We went to the mercado today and I swear to you, their alcohol section was as large, if not larger than their food selection. You’re hungry, Gringa? Here’s some crackers, jam, and coffee. Godspeed. Oh, what’s that? You’re happy/sad/thirsty/apathetic/literally any other feeling besides hungry? Here’s about 8 million different types of wine, three aisles of liquor, and some sugary fruit drink to hold you over. Oy vey. I suppose I shouldn’t complain, but hungry is starting to become a part of my permanent state.
3. Until today, I was under the impression that deodorant was one of the few things on which the world was able to agree. This presumption came crashing down when I decided to bring a deodorant that was almost empty and opt to buy a new one in AR. Turns out, Argentina is too good for our normal glide-on deodorant. Silly Americans. The only deodorant they have here is aerosol-powered. I apologize, but having a frigid blast of floral-scented air shot up my arm is not my idea of a pleasant way to deodorize myself. Snooty Argentinians and their gusty armpits.
4. MILK COMES IN PLASTIC BAGS HERE. LIKE, IT’S A BAG OF MILK. I don’t get it.
5. Everyone in Argentina is an architect, apparently. Went to look for a notebook to use for my classes that start Monday. Out of the six they had to offer, five were on grid paper. WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING WITH ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY PAGES OF GRID PAPER? Not to mention the only notebook I could find with regular lined paper was 55 pesos. (That’s about $10 US for those of you who are less cultured than I am. I know, I’m super fancy.)
I suppose that’s all I’ve really learned today, but this seemed like a good format at the beginning of this post and I’m not about to change it. I got a siesta to take. Sorry dudes.
Also, I’m thoroughly aware this post is disappointing in comparison to my last entry. You win some, you lose some. Miranda- 1. Readers- 1. Tie game, kids.