It's been a long, hard road, but I've finally overcome my writer's cramp. A trip to Iguazu Falls didn't hurt, but I'm saving that for the next post. First, I want to reminisce about the past few weeks:
- Argentines really know how to celebrate Midsummer. I didn't lose a tooth this time while singing Helan går, but it was close.
- Montevideo, Uruguay must be beautiful in the summer, but the wind can certainly whip your cheeks into a frenzy in the wintertime. But a copious amount of meat keeps your body warm while your heart whimpers. I sometimes feel like I can hear my arteries clogging.
- My co-workers are lovely, and teach me many things, including that flacos are boys, minas are girls, and strawberries shall under no circumstances be referred to as anything but frutillas. That is to say, fru-ti-shas.
- Dancing on the streets is by no means confined to the tango shows on Florida Street for the tourists. No, with the street panels how they are and oily substances dripping from most balconies, dancing is a sidewalk necessity, a swivel of the hips and a jump with the feet of boots tumbling their way to work. It's a good thing Argentine men whistle so much.
- Speaking of streets, I have thrown all feminine languor to the wind and now sprint across 12-lane road 9 de Julio to work. It helps unclog the arteries (see meat above).
- The Swedish Association is turning me into a lush.
And now, some photographic proof. First, Midsummer:
On the bus to Montevideo, I learned the meaning of the "safety" part of "safety glass" when a punk kid threw a stone at the window next to my head:
I wasn't kidding about the wind in Montevideo:
Nor the meat.
These cows never stood a chance.
But not everything is charred flesh and intestines. My lovely co-workers (Sol, my partner in crime, is second from the right):
Stay tuned for Iguazu!