“It doesn’t matter how real or true the facts are; the issue is how something that somebody says is transformed into something that will change the world… I can say something—it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not—but your reaction and the emotion it generates within you are real. It happens a lot in lovers’ quarrels, where people say things that they probably don’t even mean, but once stated, they are reacted to as if they are true. It is actually the person being spoken to who gives these words their power.”

“In Salta, repeating the lives of others is a goal. Establishing continuity gives security and prestige: the doctor who has a son who is a doctor, and who uses his father’s office.”

In conclusion, robots are for me.

I took that in Argentina, it’s an ad for Tang featuring two young children who have fashioned a beer bong for Tang delivery. Madcap! Bong imagery aside, to my jaded eye, it looks like they’re pouring vodka and Kool Aid into the funnel:

What are we teaching the children?

Kids, listen to Aunt Maggie.That’s no kind of way to treat vodka.

Eight Things to Taste in Argentina

Toast spread with dulce de leche.

Churros at the Recoleta fair.

1. Dulce de leche Fresh dulce is practically sexual. You’ll be tempted to pinch a bit to slide between your thumb and forefinger. Instead, may I suggest pouring a gallon or so on the bed sheets and rolling around in it naked? …No? Well, you can also use it on ice cream, fruit, or toast if you’re concerned about the cleaning bill. Be sure to try a slightly crisp panqueque swelling with warm dulce filling. (Miranda’s makes a great one — calle Costa Rica 5644.) Also seek out the fresh, dulce-filled churros dipped in chocolate, which are available at the Recoleta fair on Saturdays and Sundays.

Matambre

2. Matambre is a stuffed flank steak often served cold as an appetizer. The one we cooked was prepared and wrapped by our neighborhood butcher. It was rolled around carrots, onions, potatoes, a few hard-boiled eggs. Consequently, it looked like a severed limb wrapped tightly in plastic (for freshness!). The flavor was similar to corned beef, but with a more dense texture. Try it after midnight, when you wake up ravenous and still a bit fuzzy from the wine you had in lieu of dinner. One slice straight from the fridge is an excellent restorative.

Alfajores with various tea pastries.

3. Alfajores These small sandwich cookies taste nostalgic, like a part of your childhood you don’t quite remember. The fresh ones collapse in your mouth, giving you more time to ponder the slightly chewy dulce center. Each one is a small moment of peace, so have a cup of tea handy. Buy a few from the bakery on the corner of Santa Fe and Oro.

Mate gourd.

4. Maté A traditional warm beverage made by steeping dried yerba maté leaves. In the afternoons, Argentines gather on balconies and lawn sipping shared cups of maté through bombillas (straws with filters on the ends). I found it bitter and grassy, but soldiered on anyway. Mate is the national drink, and these are the things tourists must do. We are also duty-bound to attend an overwrought tango shows wearing white sneakers, but I digress.

5. Chorizo Stop at every corner carnecería and ask for a bit chorizo. Every butcher has a different take on this deep red pork sausage colored with peppers. For breakfast, fry it with some cubed potato, or add it to an omelet. You’ll find yourself reconsidering your blind allegiance to bacon. If you don’t have a stove, or the inclination to cook for yourself while you’re on vacation, the house chorizo at Don Julio is excellent.

6. Chimichurri This sauce is usually served alongside steak. It’s a mixture of parsley, oregano, garlic, peppers, and vinegar, and is best if prepared fresh. However, many restaurants simply add oil to a dried spice mix. Should you encounter the latter, politely scrape it from your tongue with the side of a fork.

7. Steak As you may already know, the cows in Argentina are grass fed, and their flesh is rich with the happiness of grazing on open hillsides. The steak here is so savory that it connects with the base of your brain, releasing a hormone that makes you instantly indifferent to the plight of cows. Argentine steak is the very best reason to have teeth.

-You leave your garbage on the curb in bags for pickup each afternoon.

-And yet, the garbage cans are wire boxes on poles, presumably so wild dogs and cats can’t reach the contents.

-I’ve seen at least three women in see-through white skirts wearing black G-strings.

-Milk for your tea comes steamed.

-Bookstores don’t have prices on the books, you have to ask.

-It’s unusually difficult to get change for large bills.

-They sometimes spray perfume on your purchases.

-Milkshakes are just milk blended with whatever flavor you’ve requested.

-At one local grocery store, there’s an express line for the pregnant and disabled.

-All the playground equipment here is still mildly dangerous. Working sea saws and merry-go-rounds, hard dirt ground so the pain shoots up your legs when you jump from the swing.

Libby wanted to go skydiving for her birthday, but it wasn’t possible to arrange it, so we took a helicopter flight instead.

I had no idea. It was one of the most amazing things ever, one of those very few things in life that make you dream better. When the helicopter lifted off, it felt exactly how I imagine it would feel to have wings.

(If you plan to be in Buenos Aires any time soon, our pilot was Fernando Rodriguez Alfaro: fralfaros at hotmail dot com. Cellphone: 1551810095. Do it! Do it! You will love it.)

“Towels?” a street vendor holds up a handful of dishtowels for us to consider.
“No, gracias.”
Another visitor moments later,
“Candy?”
“No, gracias.”

And so on every few minutes until a drunk man approaches and sways toward us.

“Can I have money for the bus?”
“No. Lo siento.”

My purse is sitting in my lap, and I feel uneasy. When the man leaves, I place it on the ground against the wall. The table and chair legs are substantial enough to block anyone who might reach and run from behind me. We chat for a while until a woman rolls up a large, janitor-style cart filled with small boxes.

“Incense?”
“No, gracias.”
“But it smells very good, see?”
“No, gracias.”
“This one? Patchouli?”
“No. Gracias.”

She begins to wheel the cart away, and then stops suddenly. She leans in close to my girlfriend and mumbles something incoherent. My friend looks confused.

“What beaaaautiful earrings,” the vendor says. “So beaaaautiful.” She comes even closer to admire them.
“Uh. Thanks.”
“Beaautiful!”
My girlfriend and I exchange a look, and she’s on her way.

Oddly, she’s the last visitor we have that evening, though several vendors approach other tables. We finish our cocktails and when the bill arrives, I look down for my purse. Of course, it’s gone.

After some conjecture, we figure that it was most likely the incense woman. It would have been very difficult, if not impossible, for someone to grab it from the sides, so I’m fairly sure there was a child or small person hidden on the bottom of her cart who reached in between our legs from the front of the table and grabbed it. Whoever it was had a bit of difficulty (the purse was really crammed in there), and hence the prolonged and awkward earring admiration.

Losses:

-About $100 in cash. Ugh.
-My gorgeous green wallet with bright pink interior that was a gift from my father in law.
-My very favorite, silver lamé clutch that I got for $2 at Goodwill. Irreplaceable.
-My notebook. My awesome Moleskine travel notebook filled with Argentina goodness.Ugh.

Wins:

-The knowledge that, for the first time in about five years, I left the house without my camera. Suck it, incense lady.
-I am impressed enough by the thief’s skill that I didn’t punish myself for too long over stupidly putting my purse on the ground.
-Someone found some of my abandoned wallet contents the next day and emailed me, because most people are goodies.
-After four years of marriage and a child, I finally have the incentive to get a driver’s license and credit cards with my married name on them.

In conclusion, when in doubt, shove your purse up your skirt.