You Might Be a Yanqui If. . .

Over at the Seashells and Sunflower blog, my expat friend Katie listed clues that you might be a “Yanqui,” as we get called here by the natives. (By the way, don’t call us “gringos,” as here that refers to Italians.)

So here’s my own list. You might be a Yanqui ….

• If you consider a wedding dinner at 1 am to be a tad late

• You don't know what to do with the "bidet" (and totally soak yourself trying to figure it out)

• If you dare to dine alone in a good restaurant

• If you are surprised that it costs more to obey the law than break it (as in the $100 fee for renewing a visa, versus the $50 fine if you don't)

• If you imagine that customer service wants to fix your problem or that repair centers will have genuine parts

• If you think only affluent families have regular domestic help

• If you expect to pay US$100 to get a plumber or electrician to fix something, or if you think by paying extra they’ll come on a weekend

• If you expect to pay with a credit card and pay the same price as if in in cash

• If you say “please” or “thank you” instead of “bueno” when someone offers you a favor

• If you itch to "do something productive" after chatting with folks for two hours at lunch

No Blondes on the Bus

Lately I’ve been using public transportation often here in San Nicolas de los Arroyos, and I’ve noticed a few things:

1) No blondes on the bus. I AM the blonde on the bus, even though my hair gets called auburn or light brown in California. Okay, there was one with a really bad bleach job once, and another time a taller-than-me real blonde.

2) No reading on the bus. Quite a contrast to the book-reading T-riders in Boston and the newspaper aficionados on the DC metro. Here solo riders stare in to space or doze or play on their cell phones. Groups chat.  I have never seen even one person reading.  Not once. 

3) Lots of families on the bus. Toddlers with big brown eyes and silky dark hair, little girls with pink coats and ponytails, 4-foot tall wrinkled grannies, young couples, entire families (dad holds the baby while mom minds two toddlers). Lots of cuddling of kids.  The wildest behavior might be a three-year-old who stands on the seat to smile at everyone. Notable.

4) Nursing on the bus. Moms casually lift their blouses and feed the squirmy babes. As this happens in

Wittiest Review of Argentine Cuisine Anyone Will Ever Write

If you want straight facts and great photos of Argentine cuisine, the sensible alternative is the wikipedia article (click here), where you'll learn that Argentinians used to consume an average of 100 kilos (220 pounds of beef per year.  The photos of grilled beef, empanadas, alfahores, and even a plate of spaghetti, will serve as a basic guide.

But if you want to laugh until you wet your pants, read the blog post, "Argentina on Two Steaks a Day."  The  author, Meciej Ceglowski, would surely be a hit on late night TV for original wit blended with obvious credibility.  Think The Daily Show crossed with the old PBS Julia Child shows.  Here are some choice excerpts, but really, read the whole thing here. 

Now for the rationale for the title, written back in 2006 when beef was still plentiful.

The classic beginner's mistake in Argentina is to neglect the first steak of the day. You will be tempted to just peck at it or even skip it altogether, rationalizing that you need to save yourself for the much larger steak later that night. But this is a false economy, like refusing to drink water in the early parts

“Let them eat fish!”

“Where’s the beef?” is fast becoming “Where’s the fish?” here in Argentina.

As with other residents in the land of gauchos and cheap malbec, Roberto and I are eating a lot more seafood these days. Good cheap beef has totally disappeared from butcher shops here, replaced by some fresh and much frozen seafood from Argentine fisheries.

Hard to believe, but Argentina, once known for its fabulous beef, might have to start importing beef. For me, this was another Economics 101 lesson: Central Planning tends to boomerang.

World Cup Mentality & My Parochialism

I did not have to check the news to know that Argentina won their World Cup game yesterday. The fireworks blasting in the streets, the horns beeping, and the dogs howling told me!  I'm delighted, really. Good news is so rare here!
When the competition is narrowed, I'll go find a café and watch some games. . . and the fans. What can I say? I am a tennis and baseball fan. The passion for soccer mystifies me. My dear Roberto is fond of reminding me that it is the most international sport. Could be. But I just can't focus on that green expanse with the dots of players running helter skelter for 90 minutes. Apparently I am not the only parochial U.S. person to admit to this.

Two New York Times columnists, Gail Collins and David Brooks were discussing this very topic last week. Brooks's comments so delighted me that I want to share them here, emphasis mine. (For the full column,

Bug Off!

Today Roberto and I tried a new parrilla (grill restaurant) that opened up just down the street from his childhood home. We immediately approved of the ambiance, perhaps "early gaucho,” very woody and horsey, with comfy booths. As it was nearly 3 p.m., we quickly ordered some grilled beef, naturally, a salad of arugula with parmesan, plus a Coke and small bottle of malbec.

Well, the salad showed up in about 10 minutes with a bonus--a little extra protein in the form of a small black bug. The beetle, smaller than my pinky's nail, was nestled in the chopped arugula. It was surprisingly entire, so it probably entered after the knife. I called the waiter, who whisked it away with a zillion "I'm sorry's" (in English!). He brought me a side of hot

Celebrating the Bicentennial. . . Sort Of

Yesterday Argentina celebrated a Bicentennial of sorts, commemorating its first government independent of Spain, at least in Buenos Aires.

No doubt we’ll see additional festivities celebrating the Declaration of Independence (July 9, 1816), which marked the beginning independence for the whole country. In fact, a lot of South American countries will be doing the same, remembering the epoch of their freedom fighters, led by Generals Bolivar and San Martin.

But what is there to celebrate, really?
It seems to me to be kind of a mixed bag. On the one hand, we can honor those who had the courage and vision to change the world by liberating these lands of the tyranny of foreign kings and queens. On the other hand, the last two centuries have seen plenty of home-grown tyrants, whether they assumed the post through "elections” or by force. (And yes, I know that some of these were aided and abetted by foreign powers,