About a week ago, now, I saw one of the women I work with on the street, and stopped to chat with her. She was buying bread, and she stopped to tell me some places she thought I should go — what are called peñas, these folk-music-and-parrilla (grill) places. She recommended two in the Palermo region, which is where we live, saying to make sure to make a reservation.
Tonight, my sister Rachel and I were going to go to this Vegeterian restaurant, but she called me when we went to meet up, and said, no, come to the Bulnes subte stop, my friends are going to be there and they are going to this peña and we should join them. So I said, sure, definitely, why not, I haven’t really been to a traditional parrilla yet, and it’s not like I can’t eat vegeterian food any time, and anyway Rachel had been feeling sort of sick so she can’t eat much wherever we go. So we went.
The place was indeed one of those recommended by Nora; it’s called the Peña del Colorado (website), and it was a small, homey-is-the-only-word place, with a big grill in the back and a small stage in the front. Rachel and I hadn’t made reservations, but they were able to seat us all together, and we sat and ordered food and wine and watched the show when it started at 22:00 or so. (I love that they use a 24-hour-clock here; it’s so nice, especially since I always try to use one at home and no one is ever willing to deal with it.) The singer was this woman named Gabriela Torres, and we collectively decided that she was nice to listen to but that we wouldn’t ever really put her on at home; I really liked some of her accompaniment, like the harmonica and the flute.
The food was really very good; I got my first steak since I was maybe 10 (I’m making that up; I’ve no memory of when I last actually ordered steak, rather than chicken or fish), and it was really delicious so long as I didn’t think about it. The wine, for $12 a bottle, was perfectly fine (remember, that’s fucking $4 US), and in general it was a pretty cool experience, although they ran out of flan before I’d ordered it (I never get to have flan here when I want it! and the one time I did, it was sort of bad and I could’ve sworn that my flan is better). I had café con crema instead, which was nice. (I’ve been into drinking coffee here, even though I so rarely drink it in the states; it’s something reasonably inexpensive to buy, and it gives you something to do.)
Earlier today, I went to the Feria de Mataderos, in Mataderos, which is a barrio in the south-west of the city. It was an hour-long bus-ride, and I’m actually sort of proud of myself for figuring it out and going on my own. Todd F had recommended it, and it was a pretty cool time; it’s less tourist-y than, say, San Telmo, in the least because it’s not on a subway line, and there was a lot more music and dancing, and good food, including tamales (oh man, so delicious), and lots of sweets. I talked myself out of buying cotton candy, twice. I want to go back with more than $30; there was some cool stuff there — all I ended up buying was a bombilla for my mate gourd, since the wooden one Rachel bought me, as nice as it is, got clogged immediately when I tried to actually use it.
Ferias are, well fairs, street fairs, clogged with vendors, and foodsellers, and people. I don’t know how better to explain them.
Tomorrow morning I am going to a yoga class, if I can get up in time to make myself. If I like it, I imagine I will buy a pass and go once a week, although not necessarily on Monday mornings. The place I’m thinking of going is surprisingly not-cheap; it ends up being more than yoga is at the place I go to near Haverford (although certainly cheaper than anywhere I’ve been to other than that; Daniel, who owns the Haverford place, gives fantastic discounts to students).
Saturday I finally went to MALBA, the museum Joe had told me about; it was pretty good, but in general I wasn’t horribly impressed; they had a floor devoted to Tarsila do Amaral, a Brasilian artist who was, errr, okay. I mean, fine, I loved some of her dream paintings, but in general I wasn’t so impressed. I just like dreamscapes.
MALBA also has a film series, and regular daily screenings in their auditorium (you can only look at the schedue if you’re on the Spanish version of their website). From the looks of it, they’re going to be doing a French New Wave cycle this month, which is exciting — I can see French movies with Spanish subtitles! I imagine I’ll go at least to a few films; I’ve been wanting to educate myself a bit more about French film. And they’re showing Rocky Horror Picture Show, twice, and especially since Joe said it was fun, I shall have to go and see it in Spanish. Or, I guess, subtitled in Spanish. Jesus, it’s been a long time since I actually saw Rocky Horror.
Saturday night I didn’t leave my apartment, I don’t think.
Which brings us up to now, temporally oddly, but nonetheless. I have lost some English syntactical ability, and my keyboard makes it so that every time I try to type some, literally every time, I type smoe instead. Fucking A. This is what I get for pretending that a toy computer is a real one.
I wish I was taking more pictures. I’m not allowed to photograph at FLENI, so I won’t get pictures of the kids I’m working with, which does make sense I suppose; still, I should take some pictures more than I am. I should’ve purchased a small camera for this; I always feel so awkward with my gigantocam. Regardless, when I get the chance I will indeed upload some photos onto Rachel’s computer, thence resized, and thence to the web.
Until then, folks.