Second Day

So my rose-colored glasses were DEFINITELY removed by my second day, and I got past completely romanticizing this whole experience as the reality set in: that I was going to be alone for a month, in a place where I don't understand what the fuck is going on, what the fuck people are saying, what the fuck I should do or not do, WHATTHEFUCK. I realized that, even three days into this experience (I'm counting my first whole day of travelling alone), I've never felt so alone in my entire life. I know that sounds tragic, and it's really not, because I don't mean it in a way that most people would interpret it. What I've learned from my vast four days of experience here is that feeling alone isn't necessarily a bad thing (because you are truly free). On the other hand, it isn't necessarily good either (because you're fucking lonely, horny, and constantly second guessing yourself). But it is exciting and new and, yeah I kind of feel like I've emerged out of some womb and everything's different. I kind of want to cry, but not really, because I'm constantly laughing at myself and at the fact that I'm alone in a city for a month, which is admirable in theory, kind of retarded in practice.

I ended up going back to Palermo my second day because I realized that this place made me feel calm. It kind of felt like Greenwhich Village, and parts of San Francisco, and even a few parts of Ithaca. I then decided to go to Recoleta Cemetary because it's not that far from where I was. This is a huge cemetary in the city where the tombs of some of the most important people in Argentine history are. Evita's tomb is always the biggest seller. So I showed up and immediately wished that I hadn't, being surrounded by fat, sweaty American tourists, cameras clicking, fannypacks swinging. The graves were actually really beautiful, but I ended up getting really frustrated because after staring at many of the inscriptions, I noticed a trend: nearly all of them were not people who impacted history or were even that important, they were doctors, CEOs of businesses, people who had enough money to go for the largest grave in the most prime cemetary real estate. When I realized that, I then noticed how gaudy many of the tombs were, and I started to see this less as memorializing the dead and more as a pissing contest, some type of one-upmanship over who can have the largest tomb. It started to irritate me, but then I got over it, when I realized that there were dozens of stray cats everywhere I looked, cats sleeping on graves, in tombs, foraging for mice, it was really funny. I approached one tomb with a cat INSIDE of it, and it kind of looked dead until I meowed and it put its head up and followed me around. I kept on petting it, realizing that I could very well get fleas...or rabies...or FIV.

I ended up walking to MALBA (The Museum of Latin American Art), which took SO LONG to get to, but was really worth it because it was so interesting and thought-provoking and, in one artist's case, really moving. And then I walked through the park, checked out the street I'll be living on when my study abroad program starts (it looks like the Upper East Side), and stopped for a cafecito. The coffee here is interesting. It's more like a mini-latte, but oh my god it's SO tasty.

Later that evening I ended up checking out a gay bar, because I've been having a really difficult time reading the men here. I still am. I had heard that Buenos Aires men (called Portenos) were supposed to be the cockiest, most forward people on the planet, but they seem really aloof to me. Regardless, this is a city full of models. I swear to God, the men and the women here. It makes me feel like a troll.

The gay bar was really fun, but it was more of a reconnaisance (sp?) mission than anything else. I had my binocculars, my safari hat, and a notepad, recording the mating habits of the Argentine homosexual. Conclusion: they travel in herds, most are single, all are beautiful. I ended up leaving and took a cab home.