Long Weekends

One thing is certain, the beginning of the heat and humidity of summer has arrived. I'm not gonna lie. When I was reading all your statuses about Thanksgiving, turkey and American football, I was jealous. But then I remembered I had my own long weekend, and it's summer here, so then I got unjealous. 

This weekend was epic. It's always best when you have no plans and then everything that happens as a result of those non-plans is awesome. 

I went for my weekly Friday night date at Pati's. We ordered pizza, ate ice cream, and watched Miss Marble, a movie series based on the novels of Agatha Christie. When the movie ended, I was exhausted and hopped on Bida to head home and crash. I arrived home to find Mana and Diego eating dinner. When I came back from the US, I was reminded of the drinking culture in there as compared to here. There we have drinking games. Beer Pong. Kings. Asshole. Hockey. Sink the Bizz. Flip Cup. And many more I don't have the time or memory to list. Anyway, here, nights are less organized, and usually focus around conversation, and less about who can get drunk the fastest in a competitive manner. (Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging anyone, just stating the differences) 

Anyway. I came back to BA with a stock of ping pong balls so I could teach Mana and Diego the ways of Beer Pong. When I walked in on Friday, Diego looked at me, and said, tonight is the night for Beer Pong. So I called Nerik, who offered to bring the cups, and we prepped the kitchen for Argentine beer pong. Once we explained and agreed on the rules, (Nerek has a different spin, and I like to play as I call it "old school" without all their young people rules) we set up a team rotation and the games began. 

Usually it takes a couple rounds before people start getting competitive, but from the word go, the Argentines were in it. Yelling at the ball, throwing their hands up in the air on every miss, and hugging and celebrating with every cup sink. They were loving it. The games went on until the beer ran out. Then we scrambled to find a delivery company, and the party continued with to-our-door beer delivery (have I mentioned I love this country). 

As the games went on, the competition got stiff, and the dancing more exaggerated and taunting. And the laughs kept coming. And then the little kid masks came out. And more hilarity ensued. I took enough photos for an entire ad campaign for beer pong. And when the games were done, the table was moved and a dance party broke out. Until we realized it was 5:30 and that the sky was getting lighter. And just like that Nerek se fueron, and after a last number to finish the night, we all ran into our rooms like vampires escaping the light. Operation Beer Pong Buenos Aires - Success.

Saturday afternoon, was heavenly. Our friend Karina lives in a great apartment with a POOL in the backyard. With the humidity around here, it was just what the doctor ordered. After a little pre-pool ritual we went down to worship the sun, hypothesizing that we had a good 4 hours of sun before we lost it to the buildings. Derek showed up after a while, and Karina gave him a lesson on the back float. He'll learn to swim afterall if it's up to her. Once Derek got bored of the pool, Karina challenged un pendejo to an underwater race followed by a contest to see who could hold their breath the longest. He won. 

After several hours of sunning ourselves, my craving for parilla dinner took over, and Nells and D and I left in search of the perfect outdoor hole-in-the-wall steak dinner, which we thankfully found before my hunger bitch mode came out in full force. I hate to show that side to people I love. It's just not pretty. 

We feasted on papas and a mix of steak and sausage, washed down with Orange Fanta. The perfect end to the perfect day. The exhaustion from our beer pong marathon set in, and I headed home for a sweaty but good night's sleep. 

Sunday I slept in before treating myself to a nice American Breakfast and some mate. Upon starting the day I realized that summer had arrived, as I just sat in one place sweating. In the afternoon I headed to meet up with Molly and Libby for a show at Konex. The show I refer to is none other than Onda Vaga, my Argentine band obsession. I warned them that I was about to take them to a concert with mostly fans of the age range of 15-21, and that I, like most of the young girls would most likely sing every word to every song as I were 15 at an NSYNC concert. And I did. Except this time instead of pushy young girls trying to get closer to their beloved band members, the place was full of young men and mosh pits. This was curious to me because Onda Vaga is not really music for moshing. But every time a high in the song came, they formed a circle, pushing everyone back and got into some serious mosh action. When in Rome... I shrugged at my friends, I channeled my inner 16 year-old boy and jumped right in that moshing, until it got too intense and I ran out. When it was all over, and we were all still sweating, we headed for empanadas before calling it a night.

On Monday, I went to drop off Pati's keys since she has a visitor this week. When I arrived, she was dressed and ready to hit the town. Which was surprising because she's supposed to be in bed as she got less than ideal results on her x-ray last week. When I asked where she was off to, she simply replied that she HAD to go shopping. I offered to go for her, to run whatever errands, and told her I didn't think it was a good idea and what about her back. And she looked at me and said, "I'm going shopping. I have been in bed for 6 months, and tengo ganas de shop. So come if you want, but I'm going." So, we hopped in a cab and we went shopping at Buenos Aires Design. For glasses for the kitchen. Which turned into pillows for the living room, and a new bathrobe, and something for the guest room. And I just followed her around the shopping center, trying to protect her from anyone running into her or touching her really, pulling her money and documents out of my pocket every once in a while to pay. I felt like the sugar daddy, only it wasn't my money. And when it was all said and done, we walked out of there with loot. And we shopped the shit out of that design center. But then we (yes we) were tired, so we settled in for another episode of Miss Marple and of course a bowl of ice cream. 

Monday night I went to my futbol game, but the lights at the field went out so we couldn't play. This apparently happens a lot in Buenos Aires in the summer. My Spanish teacher says it's because they want to save money and energy. But they say it's not on purpose. Who is right? Anyway, it gave me a chance to sit outside and chat about life with my friend Jen. 

And then it was Tuesday, and time to go back to work. But short work weeks are the best, so I didn't really care that much. Plus next week is a short week, too, and December will bring me lots of visitors!

can't really buy solo cups here, so we improvised with smaller cups

also not a long enough table. just making sure it's all even

i call them maniego. and they are fierce

i learned a lot that night about how to swear eloquently in spanish

nothing says intimidation like a little roger rabbit

in the final game of boys v girls, diego tries to stop the insanity

these guys mean business

battle of the sexes

diego v kelly

mind games

winning

weird love is still love

morning

swim lessons

and breath-holding contests

konex

mosh pits

onda vaga

masculinity

clearing the way

me libbs molly

I only drool when I'm napping

Sometimes if you talk about something long enough, you get tired of talking about it and just do it. So it was. 

Nerek and I have been talking about going camping for AGES. Since your grandfather walked to school barefoot in the snow actually. That's a long time. After a failed rock climbing/camping/roadtrip weekend, we finally decided to go the do-it-yourself route, and took a pretty unplanned trip back to Tigre to make the magic happen, Nerek, Emily, Tommy, and I. The weather is finally summer-like. And by summer-like, I mean it's spring and already somewhat feels like 100 degree August in NYC. I fear for the real summer to arrive.

Once in Tigre, we scoured the tourist booths to find the best camping situation. After a group consensus to go with El Ciervo Rojo. We split into teams sending Derek, Tommy and Emily to the grocery store for food provisions and beer, leaving Nells and I to handle entrance fee and ferry payment. We got all our shit together just in time to hop on the 2pm ferry to shuttle us to the island for the afternoon/night. 

The campsite is right on the delta, on a little island surrounded by water channels. We had to take all the food and drinks we needed as there is nowhere to buy anything on the island. Except the campsite has a full bar and all the signs specifically ask that you don't bring in your own booze so they can charge you 40 pesos for a 10 peso liter of Quilmes. 

We took the 25 minute water taxi across the brown water, taking in the sights and thankful for the breeze. Upon arrival, the owner, Diego (not to be confused with my roommate) showed us around. We immediately set up camp in an open grassy area, and I was giddy as I put together my child-size 2-man/child tent. (Thank you to the Boozehounds for providing said tent many years ago at my going away party when I moved from Indy to NYC). We were delighted to find that we were the only campers, and had the entire complex to ourselves.

Since Emily and Tommy didn't have a tent, they rented what we now believe is the world's oldest tent from an outdoor supply store in BA. It took a hot minute, but Emily and I finally succeeded at getting the heavy musty thing up, without it falling over. I feel thankful for the advances in today's outdoor gear design. While we labored with the antiques, Derek and Tommy made us sandwiches and we all headed delta-side, where Derek informed us that he only drools when he naps, to catch some rays, take some siestas, and talk about all the horrible things I had read in the newspaper that week. (Note to self - stop reading the news).

We took a quick canoe ride through what Nelle and I pretended was Capeside (you know, where the magical Dawson's Creek took place). The only sounds to be heard were Derek complaining about how uncomfortable his seat was, me singing "I don't wanna wait for our lives to be over" on repeat, and Nelle giggling uncontrollably as we role-played that whole Joey saga of Dawson v. Pacey. As the sun set, we coated ourselves in bugspray and hit the volleyball court for a quick game in the sand where I promised not to get over-competitive. But that shit is hard in the dark, so it didn't last long.

D. Clark worked his magic at the parilla, and we enjoyed a scrumptious asado dinner by the light of the stars on the banks of the delta before climbing into our tents and roughing it. God I love camping. We awoke the next day to the heat of the sun, did some sun bathing, and headed back to the mainland where we soaked up more sun, then lugged all our gears back to BA, refreshed to be back in the city.

Team Tigre making it happen

water taxi view

almost looks good enough to drink

em inside the oldest tent known to mandkind

girlpower

derek always camps in style

diego getting us out on the water

joey potter headed to dawson's to climb in the window and use big words no one their age understands

just singing along

boats - nelle you will never get these photos! - ha mentira

giggles

notice how we're trying to do DC with our hands except it's actually bbackwardsc. smart.

volleyball. right before the camera died so you can't see pictures of the rest of this glorious weekend.

Pete vs pete (en español)

What do blowjobs and my dad have in common?

No it's not at all what you're thinking.

Oh God.

What are you thinking?

I hope you're not even remotely thinking what I just implied you might be thinking. Umm...

Does anyone else just feel awkward now?

Today at the school, we did a workshop to teach the words you don't learn in a typical Spanish class. The topic was "Como se dice...romance and sex". I joined in the middle, and was immediately in on the immature giggles and endless jokes about how we could possibly use this newly learned vocabulary, and how we could practice it. It was all fun and games until we came to the word blow job.

The teacher held up a card, blow job. Flipped it over, and pronounced pet-ay. Spelled pete. We all giggled like school girls until Anna said, "Oh this is easy to remember. It's just like the name Pete". Giggles ensue. I was not laughing. I was actually frowning, disgusted. And sadly looking up at the rest of my classmates, mumbled, "but my dad's name is Pete. Everything about this is wrong."

Now every time I say blow job in Spanish, which thankfully, is essentially never, I will think of my father. As David put it, "if you didn't have daddy issues before, this is the point you can later tell a therapist that they started".

I spent the rest of the afternoon barfing in the toilet.

Showing you my face. Showing us your penis.

Any way you look at it, yesterday was interesting. 

Gay Pride weekend was always one of my favorite weekends in NYC. So much celebration and happiness centered on equality for everyone. So I was stoked to find out that I would be here to experience the Pride March in Buenos Aires. 

I met up with some good peeps at Plaza de Mayo around 3 to start the festivities. It was a great day, with bright sunshine and temps in the upper 70s. Perfection. Before the parade, there was a feriada in Plaza de Mayo where people sold books, rainbow wears, jewelery, food, drinks, and more. Educational materials switched hands and great musicians took the stage to celebrate everyone - male, female, transvestite, gay, queer, bi-sexual, straight. You name it, we were celebrating it. It goes down as one of the greatest people-watching days in my lifetime. 

As Argentina is the first Latin American country to legalize gay marriage nationwide, there is a large focus on overall acceptance of everyone no matter their sexual preferences. They are trying to pass a law now that allows the transgender population to select their sex on their national IDs according to what they most identify with. In so many ways this country seems behind the times, but on the gay issues, it's well ahead.

The discussion centered around that acceptance as well as safe and affordable birth control and health care, no matter what the circumstances. Around 7pm, we took to the streets with the jam-packed, music-blaring floats, and marched from Plaza de Mayo to Congreso, singing and dancing the whole way. 

When we first arrived and were taking it all in, a woman dressed in tight black leggings, heels, and a black corset came around selling cookies for AR$5. Each cookie came with a free kiss. Later as we neared the floats to march, we saw said woman walking around with a gigantic pair of garden shears, holding them over what appeared to be a fake penis. It took a couple double-takes to realize what was really happening. The she was really a he. Or he was a she. Or I don't know. We came to understand that she was indeed a he who much more identified with being female. And the major thing stopping that was the twig and berries between his/her legs. Yes, it was a real penis, out for everyone to see, nothing fake as we previously thought. It was quite a display, and I just kept getting nervous that with all the ho-ha, those shears would cause a seriously gruesome accident and snipping of the boy parts. Yikes. 

But possibly the most entertaining of the evening was the new friend I made standing outside a restaurant waiting for Derek to come out of the bathroom. A good-looking scruffy young man of about my age approaches and the following conversation goes down (thankfully with Nells at my side to witness it)...

Him - Hey. What's your name?

Me - Kelly. What's yours?

Him - Where are you from?

Me - The US

Him - Me too. I'm from Miami.

Me - Really? Cool.

Him - How can we get to know each other?

Me - I don't know. That's a tall order.

Him - Why is it so hard to get to know each other?

Me - Don't know, really.

Him - I just want to know one thing. 

Me - Oh? What's that?

Him - What's your name?

Me - Really? Kelly. My name is Kelly.

Him - Ok, but Kelly. What is your name?

Me - Are you fucking with me? My name is Kelly, you just said it yourself.

Him - You're really pretty. How do we get to know each other?

Me - Don't think that's in the cards tonight. (pulling out the fake boyfriend card) I have a boyfriend.

Him - Yeah but you have me here right now. Where is he?

Me - That's true. But I'm really just trying to tell you, you're wasting your time.

Him - Yeah, but what's your name?

Me - Still Kelly. My name is Still Kelly.

Him - Still Kelly? That's kind of weird.

At this point Nells steps in to try to break it up while we are still waiting for Derek to emerge.

Nells - Dude. You're cool, but she's trying to tell you it's not going to happen.

Him - But she's pretty. Why does she have so many freckles?

Nells - Freckles? Does she have a lot of freckles? I don't know. I bet she was born with them.

He grows exasperated and defeatedly walks away. 

Then returns and gets really close to my face. 

Him - Just tell me one thing.

Me - What's that?

Him - What's your name?

Me - Are you being serious? 

Him - I just want to be where I can see your face.

Me - Well, I guess that's good cause you're awfully close to it. Can you see it ok?

Him - But I just want to always see your face.

Me - Well, I just don't see that being a possibility.

Him - But what is your name?

Me - Wow. Really? Nelly, where the fuck is Derek?

Him - But Kelly, what is your name? (and actually isn't realizing that he is saying my name)

Him - Pero cual es tu nombre?

Me - Ah. Ahora hablamos en castellano? 

Him - Si. De donde sos?

Me - Soy de los estados unidos. Vos?

Him - Soy de acá.

Me - De Buenos Aires?

Him - Si. Cual es tu nombre?

Me - Kelly. No sos de Miami.

Him - No.

Me - (as Derek finally emerges) Bueno. Un placer. Soy Kelly. Todavia. Chau. 

Nells decided that he was super drugged out and I somehow became his safety net. So he would keep walking away and come back because I felt safe. My face makes you safe. Don't forget that. 

you. better. work.

i couldn't figure this out. dreadlocks underneath hair. i am fearful there is something alive under there.

i can't even model walk this well barefoot.

i want one!!!!

devil in a fur vest

geisha

me and libbs

make-up touch-up

never seen a male so happy to show his thonged butt to the world

the broad on the left was shaking it. but i prefer the photo of the woman in red behind her.

quick phone calls

this is the penis cutter i was telling you about. yes. it's a real penis.

architecture

la casa rosada - yes the president's house is pink

he works hard for the money

rainbows

the march begins

architecture and the gays

yes. fire breathers. i don't know how they drink that stuff. and yes, those are boobs.

float feet

we made it to congreso

long line to the bathroom

picketing

abandoned float

me and nerek

through the fence