Palermo

When I get back home, I´m making a beeline for our iSqueeze (a foot massaging machine, gift for Mom one Christmas). On Saturday morning, we met at UB, and the plan was to go to Palermo Forest for a picnic. We walked and walked through the city until we reached a bakery, where we´d order our food to eat there. Then we walked and walked until we hit a wine shop. I hoped against hope that would be the place we order our beverages. Of course we had only actually stopped there because it was on a big intersection. On we marched when the pedestrians got the OK signal, until we hit a park. We kept walking for another mile where we hit the real park in Palermo Forest. Then we walked a quarter mile to street vendors selling water and soda bottles, which we bought, and then we walked another half mile to sit down to eat. I gave the last portion of my sandwich to the ducks. I had meant to give it to the ducks, anyway, but it´s the pigeons who went for it.

In the center of the lake is a little island full of roses, but there´s no way to get access to it, and that pissed me off. At least I was calmed down by the greenery and ducks and dogs, to which we had ready access. Actually the place was very pretty and soothing. There are plenty of pictures waiting.

The journey back was as long and arduous as the journey there, and I kept alternating between feeling hot and cold. I´m not complaining though, it was good exercise. We took the subte to Catedral, where we walked along the Calle Florida, a very posh area, and there was this Native American show going on, and the music put me in something of a trance, and I tried to videotape their performance, but I don´t think I did too well. Shame I didn´t get any sound.

We then watched this documentary, and try as I might to find something about it on wikipedia, I´m finding nothing. Hmph.

Brenda and I had dinner with Profesora Julia. We passed over the steakhouse with the cow´s head on the door, because you should avoid places like those when you´re in Buenos Aires. We had Italian instead at a place that took Visa, and it was nice getting to know the professor.

We took the subte back home. I´ve already criticized the thing, but I have more to add. Aside from not being user-friendly, the subte closes at 23:00 and it´s crawling with peddlers and mendicants. I´d cling to my possessions when they came my way. Now this is hardly unique to Argentina. Believe me, there are some crappy undergrounds in other parts of the USA too (cough, NYC, cough). But this isn´t so much a complaint as it is a reminder of what makes the DC Metro so great. Beggars and people selling things wouldn´t dare step on board the DC Metro, and the thing´s squeaky clean, and that´s why I´ll wholeheartedly support any measure designed to expand, renovate, maintain and/or improve the DC Metro. So my next glass of Argentine wine will be in honor of WMATA. Here´s to you. *clink*