Don’t Cry for Me, Amanda

PREFACE: I know, I know. You’re disappointed its me, Fanny, again. I’ve tried to convince Fred to blog, but she seems to be having a bit of bloggers block. We do owe all our fans a post about Bonnaroo (which we attended TOGETHER). Expect that in the coming weeks. Onward:

Well Fred, here I am again. In a hostel that smells like weed and urine listening to drunk Frenchies carry on upstairs, all I can think of is you. Once again, I have sailed over the high seas in search of adventure and buried treasure, but this time I am traveling not with my dear Fredrick but with Sasha Sadrai, Alison Murphy, Joe Kozlowski and the one and only David Colquitt.

Smiles in the Cemetery

Smiles in the Cemetery

After a delightful flight were I tossed and turned to the sounds of David snoring, we arrived in Buenos Aires, Argentina Tuesday morning. After meeting up with Sasha and Al at our hostel and grabbing a quick bite, we visited a beautiful old cemetery (whose name I have already forgotten) where Eva Peron (EVITA) is buried. We convinced Sasha to pose in pictures with every stray cat we found along the way and are considering creating a “Sasha and The Rabid Cats of the World” calendar. Expect it in every stocking come Christmas 2010.

meow

meow

In the afternoon, we went to a public park where they are projecting all the World Cup matches on a giant screen to watch the Argentina/Greece game. This was shocking like the Which Stage at Bonnaroo… lots of folks standing even though you wish they were sitting, the occasional puff of suspicious smelling smoke wafting through the crowd, the strange hats, the facepaint, etc. We only stuck through the first half of the game, and it reminded me why I am sure soccer is the worst game in the world. I know, I know, its also the most loved, but when has the world ever had good taste? Its a sport where most good plays end up not really counting for anything and people cheer for missed goals. Although in the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that Sasha, Al, and I were actually cheering for the wrong team the first 20 minutes because we thought that Greece would be wearing the colors of the Greek flag. Nay nay. Argentina was wearing Greece’s colors and Greece was in white. Silly game.

That night we went to a tango show in a beautiful theatre with gilded, carved decor and nice boxes. The dancers were incredible and seemed to be on fast forward they were moving so fast. The tango seems to me to be the Mr. and Mrs. Smith of dances… Both people seem to be trying to trip each other and kick each other in the crotch but somehow end up looking in love. I want to learn.

Joe arrived this morning. In classic Joe fashion, he has already made this video and uploaded it to YouTube. Enjoy:

Tonight Sash, David and I went to a tango club and watched regular people (not professionals like the night before) tango to a live band. Tango music has convinced me that the accordion is way more hardcore of an instrument than I ever imagined. Cool kids play it here.

BA is a very European city. Parts of it feel like Paris, and I don’t mean the parts of Paris that feel like Athens (great sentence, I know, travelsnobtastic.) This would be an incredible place to study abroad. Too bad those days are behind us.

c'est paris, non?

c'est paris, non?

Perhaps I shall blog again soon.

Until then, adios!

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~ by soleilsphere on June 24, 2010.

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