lazy sunday
i left my camera with my friend Vicky in the suburbs, but i feel like recounting my so-ordinary day. so it will be an ordinary day without photos.
i woke up at about 10, quite suprised to hear almost nothing even though my bedroom window was wide open. every day but sunday, the demolition next door starts at about 7:30 or 8, sledgehammers and falling debris and dust, and more recently engines of some sort of heavy machinery. This morning I missed the noise, which has kept me company and given me something to think about in the first half hour of the day before breakfast and coffee. Jeremy is gone, but in our first weeks together i could listen to his random singing until my neurons warmed up and i asked him what exactly was the matter with him that he needed to sing like that.
Last night i was out at a bar until about 3, not dancing myself but (does this suprise me) sitting around watching argentines try to dance to bad techno (really bad techno, i mean, in the sense that i am not one of those people that thinks all beat-heavy dance music is bad techno). when lacey and i left the club it was pouring and cold-ish and windy, and it took forever to get home. this morning i really needed some coffee.
coffee in my house currently involves a cotton filter on a stick through which i manually pour cup by cup. it makes pretty good coffee (nothing like my beloved cortado) but it makes me feel like i am in the stone age. i started to make some this morning but got bored and went to the supermarket instead.
the supermarket nearest my house is a DISCO, a chain in which i feel comfortable because it is well-endowed with easy-to read signs, and because it feels like a supermarket. It is a triumph of globalization that i can walk into a DISCO and immediately understand the layout: that i am first propelled through the sale (OFRETA) section, then through the fruits and vegetables and the bakery/deli; that the aisle with cleaning supplies is right next to the health & beauty section, just like in the Philadelphia Superfresh I can navigate with my eyes closed. The cheaper independent market down the block has narrow aisles and is dark and has hand-written signs marking the merchandise and doesn't seem to be in any kind of order. So I go to DISCO. Today I found out that argentines go to the supermarket on Sunday mornings just like Americans, and stood in what I think was the express line for 10 minutes.
Then: I had breakfast (bread, dulce de leche, yogurt, peaches). I read a book on globalization for an hour, and fell asleep again until 3. I re-recorded my cell phone greeting about 15 times before my spanish was decent and i didn't screw up reading my number. I thought about doing the dishes. I continued to plow through an Isabel Allende story I have been working on reading, dictionary by my side. By this time I was hungry again, so I had a quick bite (bread, dulce de leche, beets, peaches) to hold me over until the always-late dinner. I made some mate. Somebody in the apartment was listening to a spanish version of "Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps" and I couldn't take it so I left.
Now I am in this internet cafe, here to write a resume (no job yet, but maybe i will apply this week to teach english, blech) and to jot these quick notes. Hope your sunday was somewhat more eventful.
i woke up at about 10, quite suprised to hear almost nothing even though my bedroom window was wide open. every day but sunday, the demolition next door starts at about 7:30 or 8, sledgehammers and falling debris and dust, and more recently engines of some sort of heavy machinery. This morning I missed the noise, which has kept me company and given me something to think about in the first half hour of the day before breakfast and coffee. Jeremy is gone, but in our first weeks together i could listen to his random singing until my neurons warmed up and i asked him what exactly was the matter with him that he needed to sing like that.
Last night i was out at a bar until about 3, not dancing myself but (does this suprise me) sitting around watching argentines try to dance to bad techno (really bad techno, i mean, in the sense that i am not one of those people that thinks all beat-heavy dance music is bad techno). when lacey and i left the club it was pouring and cold-ish and windy, and it took forever to get home. this morning i really needed some coffee.
coffee in my house currently involves a cotton filter on a stick through which i manually pour cup by cup. it makes pretty good coffee (nothing like my beloved cortado) but it makes me feel like i am in the stone age. i started to make some this morning but got bored and went to the supermarket instead.
the supermarket nearest my house is a DISCO, a chain in which i feel comfortable because it is well-endowed with easy-to read signs, and because it feels like a supermarket. It is a triumph of globalization that i can walk into a DISCO and immediately understand the layout: that i am first propelled through the sale (OFRETA) section, then through the fruits and vegetables and the bakery/deli; that the aisle with cleaning supplies is right next to the health & beauty section, just like in the Philadelphia Superfresh I can navigate with my eyes closed. The cheaper independent market down the block has narrow aisles and is dark and has hand-written signs marking the merchandise and doesn't seem to be in any kind of order. So I go to DISCO. Today I found out that argentines go to the supermarket on Sunday mornings just like Americans, and stood in what I think was the express line for 10 minutes.
Then: I had breakfast (bread, dulce de leche, yogurt, peaches). I read a book on globalization for an hour, and fell asleep again until 3. I re-recorded my cell phone greeting about 15 times before my spanish was decent and i didn't screw up reading my number. I thought about doing the dishes. I continued to plow through an Isabel Allende story I have been working on reading, dictionary by my side. By this time I was hungry again, so I had a quick bite (bread, dulce de leche, beets, peaches) to hold me over until the always-late dinner. I made some mate. Somebody in the apartment was listening to a spanish version of "Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps" and I couldn't take it so I left.
Now I am in this internet cafe, here to write a resume (no job yet, but maybe i will apply this week to teach english, blech) and to jot these quick notes. Hope your sunday was somewhat more eventful.
previously there was apartment J
afterwards you have Cordoba 456
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