A parrot's what did you say??

Well, well, well. I had to succumb to the Argentinean day rythm sooner or later, and yesterday I went with Stine and Juan to have dinner at 10.30pm. Still jetlagged and ready for bed really, I agreed to try my first parilla (grill) and local wine. I won't go into describing the meat, because I'm sure it can be done so much better, but the wine was great and the company even better. Juan is one of Stine's friends who speaks just about as much English as I speak Spanish, hence, the conversation was a lovely mix of Spanglish and whatever Norwegian Stine has managed to teach Juan over the past eight months.

Well down into the first bottle of wine, we realized I should probably start learning some of the local words, (and I remember this from first entering Australia) - so what do people want to learn? The nitty, gritty naughty stuff of course. Teaching naughty words to a foreigner is a bit like when kids discover them, and without sense or sensibility suddenly say things that kids ought not to say.

The first one, (female body part of a parrot) I happily exclaimed over a caipirinha, to Juan and Stine's big amusement followed by shhh...don't say it so loud! What is a girl supposed to do?! Anyway, now I know the appropriate replies to all the wankers (love that word and its Spanish equivalent) making kissing sounds on the streets, however, have sworn not to use them when towards public officials. However, I do find it quite disgraceful that policemen can offer their "services" to bypassing women just like that. Props for not using religious derogatory terms, but mainly keeping it to a bodypart level (although some of the expressions would shock most soccermums and dads alike), however in the end I just feel sorry for the poor parrot, who is stripped naked and explicitly described, with no possible replies but "Polly wants a cookie", and that just doesn't do it here in Buenos Aires.

Too many impressions, too slow internet

Finally it was time to leave Norway again, this time for the great city of Buenos Aires, capital of Argentina, home of meat lovers, wine lovers, and lovers in general and place of the widest street in the world, 9 de Julio. I arrived Wednesday night with Christian, a colleague from Kulturstudier, and as I left Ezezia aiport with him and his brother I had a feeling that this would be good.

I've been placed with one of the teachers in an apartment in San Telmo, an old, rustic neighboorhood close to the more rustic and dangerous La Boca. Yesterday I woke up a few hours before my tour guide for the day were to arrive and went on a frantic search around the neighboorhood for a decent internet connection. The funny thing in Latin America is that when a shop close for the day it is not enough to lock the door, they have to pull down a set of metal shutters as well, making it impossible for people to know whether there is a cafe, a garage, or indeed an internet cafe behind.

The first misunderstanding was when I went into a cafe and asked if there was an internet cafe around, the lady looks at me and asks «Con leche?» and I had to smile and try all my Spanish internet related words until she understood and guided me somewhere. Does not help much knowing how to ask if you do not know the answer. I walked home and waited patiently for Katrin who works for Amartya and was my guide for the day.

Buenos Aires is a big city, with more than 12 million people consituting the wider Buenos Aires area. To my great surprise the inner parts of the city are very accessible and if you don't mind walking you can easily criss cross all over San Telmo, Microcentro, Recoleta and Retiro, and there's so much to see on the way. 9 de Julio Avenue is some 18-20 lanes wide, and it takes at least four different crossing to pass. You have the Santa Fe Avenue, which is home to the best shops in town, and I could hear my credit cards screaming for some action as we walked past.

The Spanish language is beautiful, the coffee beats Starbucks' any day, the country is famous for its ice cream and men make kissing sounds – no, smooching sounds - as you walk by, all in all a great atmosphere and it's great to be here. I've been smiling all day, nearly exploding with all the impressions, but am now limited to a lousy internet connection at Havanna Cafe. I won't be too hard on it, at least it does provide me with cyber space access, but for all the things I want to say and share, it's just not enough. But if you can't imagine how the city adopts you like one of its own porteños, how your daily rythm suddenly change to suit the one where dinner is at 10pm and you never go out before midnight – I suggest you come and see for yourself.