Have you missed me? Well don’t cry…for me…Argentina.

17 Jul

My brother, sister and I recently arrived in Buenos Aires, beginning our two week adventure of sibling bonding, bickering and bullying. With the help of a 15 hour rejuvenating sleep, a little bit of wine and a lot of beef, we’re finally appreciating the city and its wonderful offerings. To enhance our Argentinian experience, we have attempted to adopt the local lifestyle and you know, blend in. However, I am gradually realizing that this goal of “blending in” is a merely pipe dream, because despite our greatest efforts, we are unfortunately not going to fool anyone.

"No hablo español :("

First of all, the three of us collectively have a at most, rudimentary grasp of Spanish language, (although our miming skills are becoming increasingly sophisticated.) My brother, the most advanced, repeatedly responds “Gracias Señor” when he runs out of things to say. And, while I looked up how to say “How much is this?” in Spanish, I soon learned that it’s a pretty useless phrase if you can’t count past ten.

Me: ¿Cuánto es?

Woman: Ciento cuarenta pesos

Me: ¿?¿?¿?¿?!

Woman: One hundred and forty.

Plus, coupled with our lack of Spanish-speaking abilities, our colorful city map, which we cling to like a security blanket, clearly designates us as tourists.

To top it all off, my sister keeps screaming in public about how she wants more “chocolate con churro.”I don’t think locals (or normal people, in general) get this hyped up about churros and hot chocolate. Calm the f down, Shelby.

Meet my future brother-in-law, "Chocolate Con Churro"

In my sister’s defense, I think being irrationally excited runs in the family, especially in light of my own life-changing discovery: Buenos Aires’s flourishing back-alley mannequin market. On our way to buy Harry Potter 7 tickets yesterday (“tres tickets por Harry Potter, por favor”), we encountered an alley filled with various shops selling mannequins: big ones, small ones, fat ones,  tall ones. Super PC. I felt like I was trapped in a Dr. Seuss book about mannequins and my emotions ran rampant; I felt sorrow, excitement, enchantment, horror and inspiration, all at once. I am pretty sure my brother and sister were more unsettled by my enthusiasm than by the actual mannequins. I would have included a picture of the mannequins for you but they were naked, and this blog is classy. And I may have forgotten to take a picture. Let me assure you, it was awesome.

Are real Argentinians this amazed by creepy plastic bodies? If so, then I daresay I’m actually on my way to fitting in.

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