Brazil! Getting there - Day 1

Hello children.  The cat is officially out of the bag now and goddamn, it feels good.  Call me dramatic, but it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off of my chest.  The one thing in the world I enjoy more than anything is going on vacation and if you know me well enough , I facebook the HELL out of it.  “Brazil in 3 days!”  “OMG, one week until Sweden”.  This time, due to the super secret nature of my trip, I could only tell a few friends back in the States that I was going and only one person in Argentina.  Kudos to Erin for being the BSKE (Best Secret Keeper Ever).  Anyways, do you understand how difficult it was not to be able to check in at DFW Airport while waiting for my flight?  Even when I got to DTW and I was at the gate waiting to board my flight to GRU,  I felt my hands independently reach  for my phone to check myself in.  I would normally be a tad bit embarrassed to say that, but I know I’m not the only one who suffers from this disorder.  Why do we have the need to check ourselves in at every given moment?  Does anyone really care that I’m drunk off my ass at Mansion in Miami?  The only person who probably cares about my whereabouts on a 24/7 basis is my mother and I’m sure it delights her every time she reads her son is bitch passed out or dancing on top of a car on Bourbon Street.  My ultimate goal for 2012  next to learning Hebrew and visiting all seven ancient wonders of the world is to do less check ins.  Complete lie. #Cantdoitwontdoit.

Anyways, I had a HELL of an adventure to  Sao Paulo.  The flight from DFW-DTW was pretty routine.  I shed a small tear when I noticed that the plane was obviously an old Northwest aircraft that had been raped and branded with the disgusting, horrendous Delta logo.  I loved Northwest more than the world and I seriously considered suicide when they merged with Delta.  The AOL-Time Warner merger was also another serious milestone in my life. Anyways, I landed in Detroit and luckily I was right in front of my gate.   I always hate when I’m flying domestic but I end up in the international terminal because I get so jealous looking at the destinations of other passengers.  Gate 32C London Gatwick, Gate 33C Doha, Qatar, Gate 34C Tel Aviv, Gate 35C Minneapolis.  Why would someone be so cruel to put Minneapolis next to Tel Aviv?  Even before I traveled internationally, on my domestic layovers if I had enough time, I’d walk to the international terminal just to take a look at the international passengers. I’d get really jealous if I saw a young black guy around my age heading somewhere wonderful. “What the FUCK are you going to do in Sydney?” Luckily, this time, there was absolutely zero gate envy on my side because I plopped my black ass down right at Sao Paulo.    On a side note, the Detroit Wayne Airport has really turned itself around.  It’s cleaner, there are MUCH more food options and I noticed a 35% increase in hot Arabs walking around.  I don’t know if the increase in Arab presence was a part of the reconstruction efforts (given that it’s an airport, I’m guessing no), but it sure worked for me.  If that many Arabs actually live in Detroit, you better believe I’ve found my next home.

At the check-in counter I wooed t he Korean agent with my smile and charm, and ended up getting a row of three seats to myself. Wiiii! I feel like I have this special connection to Koreans all of a sudden since I’m moving there.  Even though we have nothing in common, I feel like we connect at a different level, as in like a future connection (aka I know I can’t speak to you in your native tongue now, but give me 10 months and you’ll LOVE me). 

Anyways I took my seat,  got my shit together, took of my shoes and relaxed.  Shit ass Delta Airlines of course doesn’t have personal TV screens, so my choices were severely limited to whatever random movies and TV series my friend Ricky the TV guru put on my compu at the moment (which ended up being Cougar Town, HILARIOUS series, I’m really shocked, hilarious).   Delta did win itself some serious points with me when the flight attendant announced that beer and wine would be complimentary throughout the flight.  I don’t know if they knew they were dealing with Rob, because surely they would have  charged me a wine tax in addition to the other taxes and fees. When there is free RED WINE, I’m completely open to and capable of drinking myself slap silly.  To make things even better, one of the flight attendants came by and asked me if I would give him my crossword puzzle out of my USA Today.  I gladly handed it over for the unspoken agreement for no judgment or discussing with the other cabin crew that the passenger in 33E was on his 6^th glass of box Merlot. Yes it happened and no I am not ashamed. 

The wine must have been non-alcoholic because after 5 glasses, I was still feeling no effect. Horseshit!  To make matters worse, I popped a vicodin to fall asleep but I don’t think that had any effect either.  I have this theory that out of all medicine bottles, lets say qty 20, at least 2 are sugar pills.  I don’t know why I have come to this conclusion, but I’ve thought this way since I was a child and no one could (or will) tell me otherwise.  Well kids, I got the non-alcoholic wine and the fucking sugar pill.  Awful. Awful.  Bitch pissed and completely wide awake, I resorted to making lists when my computers ran out of batt.  I even titled them. “Foreign Countries I have been to more than once”  “Buenos Aires metro stations” “Buenos Aires streets from A-Z””World’s best metro stations in order””Hottest Nationalities”.  At this time I hadcompletely given up on the wine and damned Phizer to hell for my sugar pill (not even sure if Phizer makes Vicodin, but I hate Phizer anyways for unrelated reasons), so I decided to sleep the natural way by just laying down and bitch stretching out over all three seats.  It semi-worked I guess because I woke up to Delta’s version of breakfast (read SHIT ASS egg sandwich and small cup of orange juice) and prepared myself for arrival.  The landing was smooth as baby’s ass.

I couldn’t help but smile upon arrival in Sao Paulo.  It’s one of my favorite cities on the planet, so cool, so big, so bold and so unapologetic for it ‘s terrible weather, moody Paulistas, expensive prices and horrendous traffic Take it or leave it, Sao Paulo really doesn’t give a fuck.. and that’s why I love it.  More to come tomorrow on my 8 hour adventure in Sao Paulo!  Obrigado and Gig’Em!

Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Um, what about the bus?

Hello Children!

   As some of you know, I just returned home last week from a trip to New Orleans.   This is actually the second vacation this summer (refuse to accept that it's fall/borderline winter even though it now gets bitch dark at 17:30) that I've gone to by bus, which I love.  Who in their right mind would drive somewhere when there is a bus that goes DIRECT, for even cheaper?  Why is the reputation of Greyhound so bad? Ok, I get it. The Greyhound stations are kinda trashy and I'm not exactly rubbin' elbows with the Kardashians (Is that America's new royal family? I'm having trouble keeping up (no pun intended)), but I do know that I can pop a vicodin and 6 dreamy hours later, I'm in my destination.  My heart even sank a little bit when that poor guy got his head sawed off, for his sake and for the future of the reputation of Greyhound.  I immediately found myself doing damage control for Greyhound after that incident, struggling to remind everyone that that took place in Canada and not the grand ol' USA. If that's not dedication, then I don't know what is. Some of you may be confused if you've read    My Formal Letter Complaint to Greyhound . No children, I am not two-faced, I just really love bus travel.

America, especially Texas, has never really has gotten comfortable with public transportation. Our time-crunched image conscious culture doesn't really have room for Greyhound, which is quite sad because it's actually not a bad way to get around.  I quickly discovered this in college when my friends used to stare at me blankly when I asked if they could pick me up from the Greyhound Station.  I'm sure it didn't help that the station was stuck in a dark semi-abandoned area behind the railroad tracks, but I don't mind! The only thing that really irked me (and only from time to time) was the lone, borderline senile, tooth-missing representative who was always rude and slow as fuck. If you're old and having trouble typing, fair enough, but why should I have to wait for you to finish your afternoon snack before I check in? If I could put up with that, surely I will have no trouble chillin' in 36A while a trashy pregnant teen, recovering and/or current crackhead, or better yet, a "normal" person like me is beside me in 36B.  I even once put up with a six year old Mexican child sleeping in my lap for two and a half hours once on a  Greyhound ride in college.  I continuously poked him throughout the ride in hopes that he'd stay off my lap, but his head kept bitch bobbing back down, so I said fuck it and treated him like he were one of my own. I tried to keep the head petting to a minimum, but what else are you supposed to do with a child is in your lap? Beat it?  I even had a brilliant excuse crafted, in Spanish, just in case mommy came from a few rows behind and was horrified at little Antonio curled up on Rob's thigh. This incident quickly prompted me to write a letter to Greyhound expressing the need for complimentary pillows.  No response.

Anyways, I never got the whole concept of "dealing" with people on the Greyhound bus.  This is 21st century America, and last time I checked we were not on the Indian caste system.  So why are the people who ride the Greyhound deemed untouchable? Are people really freaked out by sharing a row with someone of less fortunate financial status? I think that people have forgotten the serious pros to bus travel.  Greyhound now has new renovated buses with outlets, wifi, more legroom, and Trapiche Malbec on tap.  Ok, the part about the wine may or may not be true, but if you want to crack open a bottle (or two) in the middle of your journey, I guarantee you no one will say SHIT. Especially if you're sitting next to children. Imagine doing that if you're behind the wheel on the way to Dallas.

I recently just did the voyage from Houston-New Orleans. I'm still alive, I'm still borderline sane, I'm clean and no one robbed me. I even ate well. Quite possibly the best part about the journey is the beforehand preparation.... call me a freak, but I truly get a thrill out of preparing for my trip.  Three sandwiches at Tom Thumb, check. Chocolate chip cookies, check.  Dr. Pepper, check.  Fully charged phone & computer, check (although I do secretly get off on wondering if my undercharged battery will make it to the next stop so I can quickly charge it just in time not to miss my bus), book that I'll never read because I sleep the entire journey, check.  I arrived in New Orleans a few short hours later, well rested, ready to party and unhungry (I really wish there were a word for that... not quite full, but just not hungry, you know?)  The journey on the way back was pretty interesting.  I won't go into depth because I don't want to ruin my lesson of why bus travel is so damn cool, but let's just say I was sitting on the floor , stuck between the legs of a fat ass sous chef from Lafayette, while munching on catfish discussing the future of the New Orleans Saints like I actually gave a damn about football. If you're willing to sacrifice a bit of comfort for a unique experience, better price and fun, call me up and I'll show you how to let Greyhound (or even Megabus) take you to places you've never been before.  Or just stay sleepy behind the wheel listening to shitty American pop music and struggle to keep yourself awake by singing at the top of your lungs while your "co-pilot" is passed out next to you. I bet that catfish and wine sounds pretty delicious now, doesn't it? Go Saints!

Why I Hate Sushi

For those who weren't disgusted by the title and actually made it here, welcome to why I hate sushi. I hate it. A long time ago, back when I was naive and foolish, I used to always say that I wish I liked sushi.  Why? Does anyone realize how much shit one gets for hating the taste of sushi?  THIS IS WHY I HATE IT. Let me explain.

As a small child growing up in the ghetto of Chicago, one could say that my experience with sushi, wasabi, ginger, and soy sauce was minimal, if non-existent (the soy sauce is a blatant lie, blacks love shrimp fried rice).  This probably explains my awkward handling of chopsticks as well, which I also hate.  Once I went on a date in Houston at a Vietnamese restaurant and I had to order the soup because I was too embarrassed to have my date deem me as "Steak and Potatoes Rob" upon realization that I needed a fork and a knife. Want an egg roll Rob? Oh no thanks, I'll just watch you eat. I only eat soup. Freak. Anyways, long story short, 0 exposure to sushi. 

I finally decided to give sushi a try. Absolutely foul. I'm being a bit dramatic here to drive in my point as there are some rolls that I do enjoy.  However, I believe my first piece was eel, which in my opinion needs to be banned in 49 states.   Ever since then, I have been ridiculed for not making sushi part of my diet.  However, the taste is only 25% of what I hate about sushi.  The other 75% of my hatred consists of bitchy sushi fans who think that they are somehow better, more cultured and more open minded because they opt for the $5.99 ($6.46 w/tax) shitty sushi box at H-E-B while I casually stroll out with a chicken salad sandwich.  I don't understand it! Why is sushi so damn special?  Are you really that shocked and appalled that I don't like a fat ass piece of raw fish , hopelessly strapped to a bed of rice by black seaweed? And why do people care about others' tastes in food? Let's say I hosted a dinner party, with my speciality: Blackened catfish and black-eyed peas and rice.   If one of my guests declared to me that he/she didn't like black-eyed peas, do you know what my reaction would be?  I'd shrug my shoulders and just give them fish and rice, because I honestly don't give a flying fuck. And this is coming from Rob, who believes that black-eyed peas are one of the true gems of this earth, right behind the Ecuadorian banana. I'd rather rip my insides out than eat a green olive, luckily for me this is socially acceptable. Unfortunately, hating sushi is not.  Here are some of the ridiculous things I've heard in the past for my opinion on sushi.. and this is how I feel about it.

1. "Oh Rob, you need to open up your mind".

          Response:  Open up my mind? Are you crazy? I'm one of the most liberal people I've ever met. I'd even munch on a golden retriever if it were seasoned properly. Horseshit. Do you even know me?

2. "Oh Rob, you just haven't had the right kind of sushi."

          Response:  Ok, I don't know the names for all of the rolls I've tried, but I've tried A LOT and there are few that really tickle my fancy. I've tried so many that I can even come up with crafty alliterative names for what I hate.  Shitty sashimi, terrible tuna, untouchable unagi.  I think you get the point.  An A+ to me for those being in alphabetical order.

3. "Oh Rob, you just haven't had sushi in the right places"

        Response:  Bitch! What? I've eaten sushi in bad ass restaurants in San Francisco (HELLA ASIAN),    New York City, Paris, Montreal, Miami and the list goes on. Hell, I've eaten sushi in f'in Sao Paulo, which last time I checked has the highest Japanese population outside of Japan.  Guess what? Still disgusting.   How authentic do you want me to get??!?! If you're willing to prove your point by buying me a round-trip ticket to NRT (learn your airport codes), be my guest.

4.  "Ok Rob, I know you don't like sushi, but we can eat at this Japanese restaurant. Come on, I promise they have other options."

        Response: Great, I'm getting shitfaced again on Sapporo and sake while struggling to down the same ol' tired ass chicken teriyaki.  Best Friday Ever!

When I was left alone with zero judgement, thanks to my friend Andres Mignola, I did try sushi in Buenos Aires and I liked what I tried.  I subsequently went on an outrageous sushi binge, ordering sushi delivery from every restaurant that was willing to deliver to the barrio Congreso for no fee.  As I finally began to come to the realization that I might like sushi, I decided to share my happiness with the world.  My happiness level would soon come crashing down when my sister informed me that that california rolls, philadelphia rolls or anything with cream cheese in it doesn't "count as real sushi". WTF? This makes absolutely no sense.  Is a blueberry muffin less of a muffin because it has blueberries in it that enhance its flavor? This is the stupidest shit I've ever heard and it's exactly the reason why I hate sushi and its fans.

Bottom line, just because you claim that you could eat sushi for breakfast, lunch and dinner does not make you any more interesting, cultured, adventurous or sophisticated than you actually are.  The same goes for oysters, beef tartar and other off -the-wall foods that have become so damn "cool" to eat. If just means you like fish a lot more than I do. Probably the same way I like chocolate chip cookies more than you (this is a fact).  

With all that being said, last week I walked into Tom Thumb and I purchased a 5.99 delicious crusted crab and avocado roll sushi box for lunch.  Two words: Commendable Crab.

Hoes in Different Airport Codes

 Roberto Jeremías Bútler on Tuesday, October 4, 2011 at 1:55pm

Hello children! It's another beautiful day in Dallas, Texas and I'm stuck inside my home, grading speakers who have serious problems differentiating between L and R.  If you all didn't know what I do for a living (keeping up is a bit confusing), ONE of my jobs is grading English exams over the internet.  Although it sounds like it's right up my alley, listening to people talk about "lice" as their favorite meal or "making a Light on this street"(where does one purchase photons?) is no longer amusing. Anyways the exam is super secret, so I can't speak about it or I'll be fired.  It's my bread and butter right now, so if I lose that, I'm fucked.  People say working from home is the key to freedom but sometimes I consider it a ticket to hell. Ok, sorry a bit dramatic, I actually do enjoy working from home, but when the sun is shining and it's 90 degrees outside, this is the last thing I want to be doing right about now.  In addition to grading, I have two more jobs.  I'm working in accounting for an art consulting firm, which occupies the other half of my day when I'm not grading English.  And last, the job that I really need to not consider a job anymore.. Playboy TV.  I don't want to let go of that job because it just sounds so cool.. but face it Rob, it's over.   In addition to being the most ridiculous job that I've ever had (watching porn and translating), it paid extremely well and I got paid in COLD HARD Argentine pesos.  However since I'm no longer in the country they've stopped giving me work.  However, the production manager did contact me not too long ago asking if I was in the country because he was interested in my "black voice" for a playboy voiceover.  I don't know what role I would have been voicing  (mystery mandingo?) over since I've seen all of the videos and not once is there a person of color, but I'll take what I can get.   I also don't know how that job will look on my resume if I ever decide to go into the field of business again, but let me tell you kids, it makes for damn good conversation at a cocktail party!

Now that I only have two jobs instead of three, I have more time to plan for my upcoming adventures. If we have the pleasure of being friends, you probably know that my plans change at an average calculated rate of 2.6 major life /travel plans per week.  On weeks that I'm particularly bored, it can average up to six.  Some call it an unstable life disaster (I call them bitches), however the way I have looked at it is that if I make 100000 ridiculous travel plans and only ONE of them works out, I've still got something to look forward to.  Let's do a quick recap of my current year and failed plans versus what actually happened:  Sao Paulo for six months, Cordoba, Sweden for a month, Burning man Festival in Nevada, moving to Dubai to work for Emirates. Fail across the board.  What actually happened: Buenos Aires for 5 months, Dallas, New York City, Miami, Chicago, and Iowa City.  Vegas and LA are coming soon to a theater near you.

However, all of that is child's play compared to my next, unconfirmed adventure.  Kids, buckle your seatbelts because I'm about to take you on a ride. I'm about to go on the trip of a lifetime!  Warning: I only speak in official IATA airport codes, so if you can't keep up, tough titty.  Ok, just kidding, some of them are really hard to decipher so I will include the city, however if you don't know that BKK is Bangkok, you should be shot (just kidding again, kinda!)

DFW (Dallas) - EZE (Buenos Aires) - GIG (Rio de Janeiro) - DXB (Dubai) - BEY (Beirut) - DXB (Dubai) - BKK (Bangkok) - ICN (Seoul)!!!

If this actually works out, I'll be the happiest man on planet earth.  I've always said that I have a major attraction to B cities (Buenos Aires, Beirut, and Bangkok) and if I could knock out all three of those bombshells in the same trip, I could go ahead and slit my wrist knowing that I've completed a successful life.   This is all set to take place between the dates of December - Feb 2012.  Here's a short explanation of how I came up with this route.

DFW-  Well, I live here (cringe), so obviously I don't really have a choice for this. No brainer. 

EZE-  No world trip is complete without making Buenos Aires one of the stops.  EZE is so good that I'm considering getting an apartment and staying a few months to plan for the rest of my trip.  Given my track record I will probably deplete my savings and have to skip a few legs of this trip or sit in the hostel and eat "lice" for the duration of the vacation, but having my 5th consecutive Argentine summer is an absolute must.

GIG -  Rio a mandatory stopover on my way to DXB, so why not?  I could just stay at the airport, however I plan to make a mini vacation out of it.  How many caipirinhas, coixinhas, and Ipanema beach bodies can I cram in a 24 hour period? BCE. Best challenge ever.

DXB - The one that failed me. Up until two weeks ago, I thought I was moving here for good, but things have a funny way of working out.  I do want to go see what all the hype is about and I have some friends I really need to visit. I've been saying I'd go for ages, and now the perfect opportunity has presented itself.  If I do spend all of my money in Buenos Aires, I truly have no idea what the HELL I'm going to do here since I really don't care for the beach and the city is expensive as hell, but whatever, its Dubai!!!

BEY - Ahhh, the land of the play. Did that even make sense? Don't know, don't care.  Lebanon makes me go crazy!  It's beautiful, the weather is awesome, the people are GORGEOUS and the food is the fuckin' bomb. I have wanted to go to Beirut longer than Hezbollah even knew what Lebanon was.  Ok, that's a lie but I told you, Lebanon makes me say and do stupid shit.  Pretty seductive power for a place I've never been to but baby, I'm coming!

DXB - Back to the desert.  I also have a plan to storm the shiekh's palace to demand answers as to why he did not sign off on my application.  I may be shot before I even step foot on the lawns but it's worth it, bitch curious.

BKK - Khao Sao Road, Pad Thai, Phuket, cheap massages, full moon parties.  OK Ok OK, call me the typical tourist, but I don't care.  I've never been to BKK and since I have this mental image in my head of what  Bangkok looks like, I am dying to go to see if its actually true.  I plan to do nothing but sit on my ass, visit temples, eat thai street food and get touched in every way by magical Thai hands.  This is another place I would strongly consider moving without even having stepped foot in it.  I have a good feeling about this place and I'm hardly ever wrong.  I still have a 99.4% success rate when it comes to predicting my experience in cities, so I've got good hope. Budapest, you fucked up my average!

ICN - To be continued.  Kind of a secret.  Not really. You guess.  Obviously something is up if the journey ends here.

Of course I don't have tickets for any of this and the planning is still in the EXTREME preliminary stages, but out of all the plans I've had this year, this one is the closest one to being sealed.  Even closer than Dubai, which was pretty close. If this works out, I deserve a prize in strategy and planning.  Does an award exist for that? Why do I deserve it? Because if this all works out, I will pay nothing for airfare. Wiiiii!

Stay tuned!  

Rob

22 Random Facts about Rob

 Roberto Jeremías Bútler on Thursday, March 31, 2011 at 5:38pm

1. I'm completely ok with listening to three songs at one time. Or less. The song Movie Star by Rascalz has been dominating the Rob charts for the past year and a half.

2. I've been living in Buenos Aires for the past 2 years. However, if I had unlimited cash and could pack up and go anywhere, I'd move to Sao Paulo or Melbourne, Australia.

3. I have an unhealthy obsession with foreign languages.  I have formally studied: Spanish, French, German, Italian, Portuguese, Russian, Farsi, and Catalan. When I was a child, and I used to read the bible and hear about people speaking in tongues, I used to pray to god to give me the gift of fluent Italian.

4.  I could probably count on my hand the number of times that I have actually folded up my clothes and put them away after I've done lanundry. 

5. I sometimes love things that I have never experienced, been to or tried.  I can say without hesitation that I love Ethiopian food, Tel Aviv, and Cedar Poitn Amusment Park in Sandusky, Ohio.  I have never eaten Ethiopian food nor do I have any idea of what it consists of.

6. I once did an interview for an article in Playboy Magazine but begged the journalist not to publish my interview because he gave me awfully raunchy questions that I didn't feel comfortable answering.

7. I once dyed my hair blonde when I was 14 and worked at Tom Thumb. Complete fail.

8. If I could go back and meet anyone in time, it would mostly likely be Vlad the Impaler, Caligula, or Stalin. Weird. Also, I would like to experience life in the Byzantine Empire.

9. I have a weird love/ hate relationship with the assistant of Geena Davis' husband, Dr. Reza Jarrahy. I speak to her daily on the phone.

10. I am surprisingly simple when it comes to food. The percentage of my lunches that have consisted of baked chicken and rice over the past 365 days is probably around 70%.

11. My preferred way to speak about travel is in airport codes.  If you can follow this next paragraph, we should probably get married.

  Dude, after 29 hours i finally landed at EZE. 

  What happened?

  Well, at SFO i had to go through hella security checks.. Shortly after takeoff, we made an emergency landing in LAS. I ended up getting on another flight that went through IAD, but of course I had to go to ORD first, because well, its United.  After a brief layover in PTY (a United flight would never do this, sounds like COPA but whatever), I finally made it to EZE.  Hopefully I'll have better luck next time from EZE-GIG.

12. One time I left bananas for so long on the kitchen counter that they turned black and blended into the kitchen counter.  I accused my roommate of eating my bananas and we found out that they were actually on the counter, we just couldn't see them.

13. I once worked as a beggar on a street corner in Stockholm, Sweden.  I made enough money that day to go out that night and get drunk. I think this is what beggars do.

14. My knowledge of current and classic movies/music is awful. I can only name one Rolling Stones song, I've never heard anything from U2, and I honestly couldn't pick Bruce Springsteen out of a lineup. I've never seen Godfather, Gone with the Wind, and my only attempt at Pulp Fiction ended in an accidental nap. However, if you ask me to name any R&B song between 1990-2000 or any country hit from 1995-2005, you'll be amazed at my knowledge.

15. The top 10 places, in order, where I have spent the most time in life are the following:

  1. Chicago, Illinois  2.Dallas, Texas  3. College Station, Texas  4. Buenos Aires, Argentina 5. Madrid, Spain 6. Barcelona, Spain 7. Lynchburg, Virginia 8. Houston, Texas 9. Sioux Falls, South Dakota 10. London, England

16.  I used to make this disgusting sandwich as a child called TBJ.  Toast, bologna and jelly (grape). It was a real winner but quite disgusting now that I think about it.

17. The quickest way to my heart is to learn Italian.  Non-native speakers who have learned Italian pretty much have complete control over me.

18. I have a large birthmark on the side of my head that you can only see when I shave my head.  People say that your birthmark is a symbol of how you died in your past life.  I think someone shot me at point blank range in the skull shortly after gunpowder was invented in ancient China.

19.  I was VERY close to living in Hong Kong. Papers finalized, school accpetance, everything.  One day, i watched a weird Discovery Channel special about the dangers of bird flu.  The special freaked me out because it was set in Hong Kong. I foolishly canceled my Hong Kong plans and moved to Barcelona.

20. I love Lebanese people and I automatically hold them to a higher standard, more so than any nationality on earth.

21. I have diagnosed myself with a new mental illness called Location Obsession Disorder. I have to know where I am, at all hours of the day.This is why it makes it extremely difficult to fall asleep on the city bus because I have to know which streets I am crossing. Because of this, I have memorized every street in order in Buenos Aires from Leandro Alem to Dorrego, and I'm currently working on expanding my knowledge to Cabildo.

22. IF you were to find me carrying ten library books, they would most likely be the following:

   A Lonely Planet guide to some random place I've never been, Forensic Science (particularly blood spatter ala Dexter), Everything you want to know about Monopoly, 501 Russian Verbs, 501 Italian Verbs, 501 French Verbs, Tennis strokes, Ancient World Civilizations, and Currencies of the World

Life in Argentina- Day 400+ something - Broken Playstation and new goals

 Roberto Jeremías Bútler on Monday, April 19, 2010 at 7:07pm

Hola kids! Well, since my 24th birthday is approaching, I guess I do deserve the right to call some of my readers children or kids. 24 on Saturday. What should I do for my birthday? Should I have an all out party bash? Should I rent a party bus? Too many ideas and too little time to plan. Acutally, this is Argentina, nothing is really planned until the day before or even the same day. It’s the only place in the world that I know (maybe Spain) where I’ve been invited to a birthday party with 12 hours notice and all the people on the invite list show up. How is that possible?! Don’t these people have other things going on? That would make me really stressed out which is pretty hard to do since I never get stressed. Anyways , if you have any cool ideas for my birthday, please let me know and soon as possible and I will try to accommodate your requests. So how is everyone? I’m doing well, I guess. Very calm weekend given that I only went out once (I think that should be in the Guiness Book of World Records). Can you believe I didn’t go out on Friday? I remember that I once said that it would take an act of god for me not to go out on Fridays.

Well children, I’ve reached that point. What is wrong with me? Am I getting sick? Am I getting old? Why in Sam’s hell (love that phrase, is that southern only?) did I not go out on Friday? And you know what.. I secretly loved it. I curled up on the couch with my illegal internet, a few empanadas and some good ol’fashioned Coke (the soft drink, you freaks!) and had a good night in. And you know what the best part was? I woke up bitch early on Saturday , went ot the grocery store and got everything done that I needed to do over the past week. It felt really good.There’s just way too much pressure for me to live a wild, crazy, stay up all night lifestyle in BA because that’s what I feel like I should be doing if I’m living in a foreign country. I mean, why not? I won’t get this kind of nightlife in the states, so I might as well soak it up, right? As a temporary tourist I guess it’s cool, but I work and live here now. Ok, I know this is nothing new, I’ve been working here for a good 7 months but I think I just came to this realization. The key is to see how long it lasts. Here’s Robs new weekly plan for BA:
Monday: Dinner, study Portuguese and Russian
Tuesday: Study Russian and Portuguese, hang out with friends , maybe see a movie
Wednesday: Dinner with friends, study Portuguese and Russian
Thursday: Drinking unlimited amounts of Fernet and Coke, gin and tonics and Quilmes and dancing until the wee hours of the morning in one of the ridiculous, outrageous, scandalous boliches of Buenos Aires, returning home plastered, chowing down on Wednesday’s leftovers, passing out with my clothes and shoes still on and counting on my small alarm clock on my ipod touch to wake me up in 3 hours to make it to work on time on Friday.
Friday: A few drinks with friends or another movie, sleeppppppppp
Saturday: Take advantage of the day, walk around Palermo, go to Zona Norte, go to Belgrano, just enjoy the wonderful city of Buenos Aires. Then repeat Thursday night except for the alarm clock on the ipod touch part.
Sunday: San Telmo Sundays, relax in a park, drink mate, nurse hangover, cook for the rest of the week.

How does that sound? Does that sound reasonable? I need people to help me accomplish these goals. So far I’m doing good. I’m going to dinner tonight and when I get home I will study Russian and Portuguese. I’m considering hiring a small servant/slave/mentor to help me not go out on Tuesdays. If anyone knows anything about me, Tuesday is one of, if not my favorite day of the week to get crazy… but this is going to stop.. Ok, well, what about every third Tuesday of the month I’m allowed to go out? Does that work? Somebody help me!

In other news, my f’in Playstation doesn’t work. Why? If I had more time I would explain how irate I am, but I’m sure you guys can imagine. I smuggled two Guitar Hero guitars in fron the USA (it wasn’t illegal but I just love the sound and the thought of smuggling things through customs, makes me feel like a rebel) and I have everything set up… just no working Playstation. God knows what they are going ot charge me here too to fix it. You never know with this damn country. They could fix in 3 hours and it costs 10 Argentine pesos or they could fix it in 6 weeks and it costs 300 US dollars. I’m serious. Prices here are just so unstable and unpredictable it’s just best to close your eyes, put in earplugs and just hand them your credit card. I wish I were still in the states so I could drive to that fucker’s house and demand my money back. That is the last time I will buy something on Craigslist. Ok, that’s a lie too, but still, how could he sell me a broken Playstation? I should have just paid the extra 20 dollars and bought a Playstation from a non-shady, well known Playstation reselling establishment (Gamestop).. but noooo, I had to be cheap and get the 30 dollar Playstation I found on Craigslist. If anyone knows the guy I bought it from, I will be willing to give you a small fee to bash in his front windows. If you are interested, send me a private facebook message. Ok kids I’m out of here. Off to my favorite resto in BA called Lo De Mateo. All you can eat Argentine steak, chicken, salad, fried cheese and French fries for $10 dollars… don’t forget the Argentine malbec wine.. Oops…it’s Monday. No wine.. right? I don’t know.. I need advice!

Ciao Ciao
Peace
Rob 

Life in Argentina- Somewhere around day 410 - Kinda Stopped Counting

 Roberto Jeremías Bútler on Thursday, April 15, 2010 at 4:52pm

Life in Argentina

What’s up kiddos? First post of the year. Sad. I don’t know what has brought me out of my writer’s block, but I suddenly feel like blogging again. Ok, I know I’m talking like I’m some bigtime blogger, but the reality is that I only post about 5 times/ year, and when I do post, I create long run on sentences, pay little attention to grammar, and start 95% of my posts talking about how long it has been since I blogged last. One of my New Year’s Resolutions (for 2011 of course) is to write more and not start every post the same way. Well now that I got all of that out of the way, let’s get down to business. What’s going on in my life? Well, for starters, I still live in Argentina. Surprise surprise!

De vez en cuando, I ask myself, what the HELL am I doing here still? I can’t describe it but the feeling that BA gives me is incredible. I feel so at home here. Does anyone believe in the afterlife? Or previous lives? (I guess if you believe in afterlife , you believe in past lives), but I think I was a latino in my past life, currently black, and I will return back to my latino roots when I perish. Actually, although I’m black, I could totally pass for latino. Domincan anyone? Cubano? Colombiano? See bitches, I have tons of countries to choose from! Btw, does anyone hate the check boxes for Hispanic Non White, Hispanic White, Hispanic on the census and various standardized tests? It’s so confusing! Actually, I’ve never had to check one, but I really feel for the poor mulattos who probably end up checking all three. Anyways, enough about me and my latino ways, let’s get down to business again. I’ll talk about 5 random things that are going on in my life. Feedback is always appreciated.

1) El Centro – The film of the year?
So, I’m really embarrassed. I called 3 of my good friends up last week and asked them to see this supposedly amazing film at the Buenos Aires International Film Festival with me. I’ve always wanted to live in a city that was cool enough to attract those really artsy looking people who camp out and watch really cutting edge documentaries and bizarre foreign films.. well children, I finally got it..Buenos Aires has its own film festival! So, a few weeks ago, I went to the website and tried to select a few movies that I thought would be great. I ran across a movie titled Centro, which refers to the barrio of Microcentro in Buenos Aires. Since I’m obsessed with that barrio and the city in general, I naturally became obsessed with seeing the movie. I even went as far as putting a post it note on my monitor reminding myself to buy the tickets online. I finally purchased the tickets and met up @ the theater with Molly, Erin and Ricky. The next 2 hours can only be described as painful, shameful, and weird. The film wasn’t actually a film. It was just a collection of random images from around the Microcentro. At one point they focused on needles and thread for a solid minute. I thought things might get better, but then they showed a few guys counting stacks of 10 dollar bills. Imagine if someone took a camera around a city and filmed everything they saw for 3 years. But no no, not the interesting things. I’m talking about paper towels blowing in the wind, water running into a sewer and bricks falling on top of a malnourished cat. This is exactly what this movie was. I was so tired too during the movie, but the only thing that helped my head from bitch bobbing was the fact that the director was sitting RIGHT behind me. Note to self, research movies a little more. But seriously, how could I have prevented that? They m ade it out to seem amazing. Argentines have a pretty good talent for talking shit up!

2) Babyface – Oldies

What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I keep listening to old music? Actually, nothing is wrong with me, it’s you freaks that have the problem. To me , music never gets old. That’s why I like country. You can turn on 99.5 the Wolf and hear the latest Lady Antebellum with an equal chance of hearing Boot Scootin Boogie. Country songs never get old. Well, nothing gets old for me obviously if I’m still jamming to Babyface. How is Whip Appeal still in my Top 25 Playlist? And how is Love Lockdown in there twice? The biggest flaw with ITunes is that you can’t edit your Top 25 Playlist, it tries to be as accurate as possible. Well you know something Apple, your shit is not accurate! Is anyone else but me obsessed with the song counts on ITunes? Sometimes I purposely avoid listening to a song because I don’t want it to enter my top 25. For all of you freaks who agree with me, I’ve found a way to get around this. Two seconds before the song is going to end just change the song! That way you can listen to it and your number doesn’t go up. However, I still haven’t gotten around to figuring out what the HELL to do if you leave your IPod on repeat on accident and the song plays all night. I LOVE Inside Out by Eve 6, but you and I (and Apple) both know that 1) it is NOT in 28th place and 2) I did NOT listen to that 186 consecutive times.


3) Seedless grapes, who doesn’t love em?!?!

4) Rice A Roni, the San Francisco Treat.

5) Ciao Ciao!

-Rob 

Life in Buenos Aires - Day 278

 Roberto Jeremías Bútler on Thursday, December 3, 2009 at 4:51pm

Hello children! I don’t know why I stopped writing about BA. Maybe it’s the fact that I got super busy? Maybe it’s the fact that no one really reads Facebook notes anymore? Who knows. But I can promise you one thing, it’s not because Buenos Aires has ceased to amaze me. In fact, Buenos Aires has done the opposite. 278 days later after my arrival, I’m still intrigued, captivated and bitch pleased by this city. I never want to leave! If I were rich, I would be buried in Recoleta cemetery. Since I can’t afford it, I would like to have my ashes just sprinkled there. If anyone has been following my ash sprinkling requests, this is now the newest spot. Previous spots include: Six Flags Over Texas off the Texas Giant, off the Eiffel Tower in Paris, and the kiddie pool Chaos at Wet Zone Waterpark in Rowlett, Texas. Anyways, back to BA, I love it. I just can’t get enough. Even though it’s an incredibly big city, I still feel like it’s a small town. Since I’m a borderline freak of nature, I’ve memorized every single street from Carranza all the way to Alem in order, so I feel like I own this city. I can never get lost here. Marcelo T and Rodriguez Pena? Bitch please, of course, I know exactly where that’s at. Bollini and French? Come on, that’s child’s play. If you really want to stump me, you’ve gotta get past Rivadavia, once the streets cross Rivadavia, things (and my BA street knowledge) gets a little sketchy.

Part of the reason I like it here is that this is one of the only places in the world where I feel at home. As mentioned above, I know the layout of this city better than any city on earth, including Rowlett Texas, which is pretty impressive. Also, I just feel so comfortable here. The daily challenges don’t even bother me anymore. Things that would be annoyances to first world denizens no longer faze my 3rd world ass. Yeah, I’m proud to say it, I live in the 3rd world and I’m proud! No gas in my building for an entire month? That’s ok, just use the miniature camping stove that my landlord brought me. Weekly blackouts? Open the windows, sunlight is nice! Taxi driver overcharges you? Just give him counterfeit bills! Everything here has a solution. It’s my new way of living life very carefree (if you thought I was carefree before, you’d be shocked (read scared) if you could see me now.

I hate to make empty promises, but in an attempt to talk about the local culture and show why I love this city, I want to post daily 2-3 things that I love about Buenos Aires. Given my track record, this will last about a good week. It’ll make me feel good, I’ll fall in love all over again with BA, and I’ll stop writing. I know myself way to well. But for right now, I’m in a damn good mood and I feel like sharing it with the world.

1) PUNTO PIZZA EMPANADAS:
Oh Children, what would I do without Punto Pizza? Punto Pizza is an amazing pizza/empanada fast food shop that is located 3 blocks away from my house on Laprida between Las Heras y Gutierrez. Punto Pizza has always been there for me always.. for celebrations, for tragedies, for good times, for bad times… sunny afternoons.. rainy days… you can always count on Punto Pizza to deliver fresh hot empanadas to your door. The delivery guys all try to put on a front like they don’t know me (what’s up with that anyways? How many black guys live on Las Heras and order empanadas thrice a week?) but I don’t care. I always get the carne suave empanadas for 2.75 pesos a pop (5.29 South African Rand, 2.72 Israeli shekels). For those unfortunate people who have never tasted an empanada, it’s basically a pocket of dough stuffed with anything you can imagine inside. Corn.. jam.. cheese.. meat..chicken.. Whatever you want, they have it. What sets punto pizza apart from the other empanada shops is that Punto Pizza always engraves the first letter of the kind of empanada into the dough, so you always know which one is which in case of a massive empanada party. Here’s a mock problem and I will show you how Punto Pizza solves this issue.

PROBLEM:
“Matias, llegaron las empanadas!
(Matias, the empanadas are here!)

“Che, tengo muchaaaaa hambre...dame mis empanadas.. pedi 3… 2 de carne suave, y una de jamon y queso.
(dude, i’m so hungry, gimme my 3 empanadas.. 2 are smooth meat (horrible translation) and one is ham and cheese”)

“pero boludo (voice raising), no se cuales son.. hay 6 empanadas aca.. cuales son las tuyas?”
(but dude (stronger than dude), i dont know which are which... there are 6 empanadas here.

SOLUTION:
“ sos un pelotudo!, no podes leer? Mira, las mias dicen CS y JQ. Las tuyas dicen P y CP (pollo, carne picante).”
(what a dumb ass, can’t you read? Mine say CS for carne suave, and JQ for jamon y queso. Your say P for pollo and cp for carne picante”)

“wow, mira vos! Me olvide que pedimos de Punto Pizza!”
(wow, look at you/how interesting! I forgot we ordered from Punto Pizza!”)

That situation has actually happened to me a number of times and each time, Punto Pizza has been to the rescue. Also, if you wanted to see how Argentines speak, that’s an exact conversation any Argentine would have.

2) ONCE
Plaza Miserere! Plaza Miserere! This is the simple, yet beautiful song that I made up that I sing everytime I wander into the amazing area of town called ONCE. If you took Mexico City, Chinatown, Senegal, a Bolivian flea market, and mixed it up together, you’d get ONCE. It’s the area of town (in my opinion) that is bordered by Pueyrredon, Rivadavia, Corrientes and I’m still working to figure out an eastern border. Anyways, you can get ANYTHING and EVERYTHING in Once. Fake passports? Jewelry sold by Senegalese immigrants? Got it! The only problem with Once is that everything lasts approximately 2 to 3 weeks but…. Fuck it! The prices are incredible! Sheets and towels for a fraction of the price…I once bought 3 tshirts in Once for 15 pesos each (3.93 US Dollars, 6.71 Brazilian reais), but when I took them to the laundry ONCE, they came out like midriffs. I just bought the most incredible cut off shirt there two weeks ago. It’s dirty as hell, but I’m so hesitant to wash it because I already know the outcome. What should I do? Who still handwashes?!? If I take it to the laundry and tell them not to dry it, they still will of course (come on, this is the 3rd world)…so I’m kinda stuck there. Anyways, Once is cool because they play lots of cumbia music, people weave in and out of stores holding crying babies and dance as they shop. It’s just a complete mess. To make things even crazier, each section of Once has a purpose. For example, the street of Lavalle between Pueyrredon and Callao is dedicated to just selling party supplies and fabrics. I don’t understand how two stores could be next to each other and sell the exact same thing! I mean, that’s fierce competition. It used to blow my mind back in the day when a CVS and a Walgreens were on opposite corners from each other, but two no-name fabric shops each selling nothing but long sheets of purple cloth is a whole new ball game. The thing is, they don’t even do anything to differentiate themselves from each other. They sell the exact same product, have the same shitty customer service, but somehow they both stay in business. Same prices too! Anyways, the highlight of Once is Plaza Miserere, a dirty, run down plaza full of Bolivian immigrants singing and throwing rocks into the fountain that no longer has any running water. Right next to the plaza there’s a huge train station that sells cheap food and women wash their babies in the sinks in the bathroom. Every time I’m hanging out a bit in Recoleta a bit too much and I’m feeling too snobbish, I’ll take the 41 down Pueyrredon for some good ol’ fashioned 3rd world fun. No trip to Once is complete without a pair of 5 peso socks, a choripan and a Quilmes from one of the many restaurants inside the train station, and just a little bit of petty theft and crime :)

3.) ONCE NAPKINS
No blog post that references ONCE would be complete without mentioning the famous ONCE napkins of Argentina. Now, before you guys go running around talking about Once napkins (not the hottest topic, but could happen), they really aren’t called Once napkins. I made that name up based on the first experience I had with these napkins in early 2009 in the Once train stations. Basically, what makes these napkins special is that they aren’t even napkins. They are thinner than a piece of paper, they resemble napkins in shape, even come in the napkin dispenser, but they do a PISS poor job of wiping faces, hands and spills. They are little pieces of hard clear or brown paper. That’s it. To demonstrate how shitty these napkins actually are, a friend and I once spilled water on the table and placed an Once napkin on the spill to soak it up. Instead of soaking the spill up, the Once napkin pretty much floated on top of the spill. Zero absorption. Zero. Bounty and even Charmin would be outraged! The problem/beauty of this is that these “napkins” are at at least 95% of the economical restaurants in Buenos Aires. If you’re looking to eat cheap in BA and you don’t want to walk out of the restaurant with shit all over your face, I suggest you stuff a few paper towels in your pocket because the Once napkins just wont cut it. You’d be better off actually using a plastic bag to wipe your face. I have no idea if they have Once toilet paper because I’ve never gone to the bathroom in the train station, but for the sake of cleanliness (and a potential typhoid outbreak), I HOPE Once TP doesn’t exist.

Well children, that’s the city I live in. Who doesn’t love that? Keeps life interesting.. no?

Peace
Rob

Life in Argentina - Day 37

 Roberto Jeremías Bútler on Thursday, April 9, 2009 at 9:47pm

What's up? I'm just hanging out in my bedroom, wasting my life away. Today was a complete waste of a day... I got back from the club at about 7 am (actually, that's kinda early) and passed out. It's now 10pm, Rachel is still sleep, and I've barely left the house today. Thank goodness today is a holiday, otherwise there's no chance in hell that I would have ever made it to school!

Anyways, yesterday was rather interesting. I woke up again at 11am and got ready to sign the lease at my new apartment. I've found a really awesome, huge studio apartment in Recoleta. It's only 4 blocks away from where I used to live, so I'm really happy about that. My rent: $499 x month for a fully furnished apartment, in the nicest neighborhood right in the middle of the city. Holy shit batman, that's insane! Do you kids have any clue how much that same apartment would cost in Russian Hill or the Upper East Side? Anyways,I found out that the lady I thought was the landlord is actually the landlord's secretary. I asked who the landlord was, and she said that it was a "senora". Great. Great. I'm willing to bet my life savings that my landlord is probably a 75 year old, stuck up, rich Recoleta bitch who will throw me out if I do ANYTHING wrong. I have respect for my elders, but seriously kids, you've gotta watch out for these Recoleta bitches, they are evil! THe landlord's secretary then proceeded to tell me that she LOVED black people because they brought good luck. Well, that's not something you hear every day, especially in the USA.

I'm really concerned because there's 24 hour security in my new building. Normally this would make most people smile and feel secure, but I'm really afraid that the doorman will tell my landlord about my ridiculous lifestyle. Who else drags 5 Brazilians, 3 French people, and another handful of Argentines into their apartment at 7 am for an afterparty? He's right at the front too, so he's going to have to see all of this. Let's see how long I last at this place! If I get kicked out of this one, I've decided to take all my belongings to the cemetery and call it home. Some of the mausoleums are so big in Recoleta cemetery, I definitely could bring my stuff there... And even better, when someone asked where I lived, I could still just say Recoleta and I wouldn't be lying! Of course this would never happen, but shit like this probably could fly in Buenos Aires and Argentines wouldn't even blink an eye.

Anyways, last night, Rachel and I got invited to a house party out in Palermo Hollywood. Palermo Hollywood is an area of Palermo that's super cool, nice restaurants and bars, but I could never live there because it's so f'in far. The house is owned by 4 professional poker players, 3 Americans and 1 Swede. They moved down to Buenos Aires and play poker on the internet, and apparently make assloads of cash. The house was insane, it was definitely one of the coolest houses I've seen here in Buenos Aires, by far. The party was actually pretty lame because it was filled with a bunch of American douchebags and a few stereotypical trashy American sluts who didn't even speak a lick of castellano. I pretty much spent the whole party scoping out people and trying to figure out who was Argentine and who was American. The alcohol was endless, I've never seen so many Quilmes stacked into one fridge. Eitehr I drank more than I thought or someone spiked my drink, but on the way to the club (left the party at 5 and went to the club), I passed out. Rachel woke me up and asked me if I would still be ok to dance, I guess since I responded yes, we entered Bahrein and danced (or probably leaned against the wall with my eyes closed) for a few hours. Actually, Bahrein is probably the only club that I have ever slept in. Last year when I was here, the music was so awful at Bahrein and I was so tired...I fell asleep standing up. It was really embarrassing, who else could fall asleep in the middle of a club, standing up, while electronic music is playing so loud that it almost makes your eardrums explode? Needless to say, I will never go back to Bahrein again. All 3 times that I have been there I've had horrible experiences.

On the agenda for tonight: Going to a Swedish houseparty in San Telmo, then going with my Swiss friend Ishi and Rachel to a hip hop club in Palermo.. first time that I'll be going to a club with REAL music.. Get excited kids!

Ok kids, i'm out of here. It's 10:40, and I've gotta wake up Rachel. Stay tuned! But first, everyday, I will list 3 random things that I LOVE/things that are weird about Buenos Aires.. After reading all of these, I hope you freaks will understand why I love this city so much.

1) One of the Indian restaurants doesn't actually have delivery, so what they do is hail a cab off the street, put your Indian food in the cab, the cab driver actually delivers your food, and you have to pay the price of the food + cab. So bizarre.

2) Cars actually speed up when you cross the street and sometimes switch lanes just to hit you. No joke.

3) Random people here read your Facebook profile, add you as a friend if they think you are cool, send you a message and invite you out with them/or their friends... and it's totally normal here.

This city is NUTS. Hip-hop club, here I come.. let's see what adventures you can bring me tonight!

Peace
Rob

Life in Argentina - Week 3 - Freaks, Dirty Martinis without Vermouth, and a lot of 69.

 Roberto Jeremías Bútler on Friday, March 20, 2009 at 9:13pm

Hola! Well, it’s really hard to describe what’s been going on here because everyday is a new adventure. Basically, I’m having the time of my life. I’m still on vacation kinda sorta because my school doesn’t start till Monday, and Rachel is still here with me! Yesterday was an awesome, awesome day.

Believe it or not, I actually woke up at 9 am yesterday because I had a class. I know, I said school doesn’t start till Monday, but I’m going to two universities (hard to explain) so I have class at one university every Thursday. I’m not used to waking up so early here… because we go out so late (averaging coming home at 6 or 7) , I usually wake up around 2 and start my day at 3. Me and Rachel are practically joined at the hip here, we do everything together, it’s awesome. We ride the colectivos together, we eat choripan, and we run across the street dodging traffic. Life is beautiful. Anyways, after resting for a bit after class, Rachel and I went over to Palermo to check out this new youth hostel. I don’t have internet in my house still, so since Rachel has to teach a class, she has to find a place that has a strong internet connection. Last week, she tried giving her class at McDonalds, but it failed…horribly. Instead, she came back at 4 am, alive, with a tennis playing redhead Argentine named Rodrigo. Too much to explain. Anyways, at the hostel we met this really weird couple from Salt Lake City. The girl came by and was like, um, do I know you from somewhere? Obviously, she didn’t know me from Adam, but she was just attempting to start a conversation with me… anyways, since she thought Rachel and I were a couple, she ran downstairs to get her boyfriend so they could have a conversation in English. Up unitl this point, they were completely normal, and I even considered inviting them out to have a beer with us in Plaza Serrano. DEAD WRONG. When her tattooed Tommy Lee like boyfriend came upstairs to greet us, they immediately began to chain smoke KOOL cigarettes and talked our ears off about the poor air quality in Salt Lake City. The guy told me that he lived in Reston, Virgiina for a while, so I brought up the snipers (Anyone remember the sniper story from a few years ago, when that guy named John Malvo (for some reason, I call him John Liquid Malvo, I know it’s weird, but it seems like a good middle name) shot all of those people in Washington D.C and Virginia? Anyways, the girl started freaking out and saying that my story was completely out of context, and she couldn’t relate to the story because she had never been to D.C. “So, give me more details?!? You’re telling me that 8 people got shot in DC, for no reason? Come on, your story is out of context.. I’ve never been to DC? I can’t even relate to this???!? This is so out of context” At this point, I was doing everything in my power not to laugh in her face, but I kept my cool and finished the story. Thenshe began to touch her boyfriend on the back, and he looked her dead in the eye and said “Why are you doing that? (with the tone of voice, What the fuck are you doing?). Rachel and I just sat there in silence, drinking beer, watching the two weirdos talk nonsense Anyways, I asked the guy a question about Uruguay and he immediately got up and said goodbye to us, and left. I wish I had a video camera to tape this freaks, but unfortunately this story will have to do.

Anyways, after we left, we met up with my friend Martin and his friend Leo at Plaza Serrano to drink a beer. I love sitting outside here in the plazas drinking beer because amazing things happen… 25/7 entertainment. No, I didn’t make an error on 25 hours…. Apparently, in Argentina there are 25 hours in the day. Things here that are open all night say OPEN 25 Hours. I still haven’t grasped that concept yet.. I mean, I guess it is true, if it’s open 24 hours, it’s open 25… weird! Anyways, at the table, during the short 45 minutes we sat drinking our beer, 3 freaks came to the table:

Freak 1: La Nina: This little kid came up to me and was like, hey, I remember you!! I gave her a highfive, and we chit chatted a little bit in Spanish. I’m sure my friends were wondering how I knew a 11 year old girl so well, but the truth is that I saw her a few weeks ago, in the same plaza, trying to get money from me. Anyways, we chit chatted, and I made her a deal where I would give her 6 pesos in bills for 5 pesos in change. Now, to any normal person who isn’t from Argentina, this probably sounds like poor drunken judgement, but coins here are so rare and hard to find (but so useful) that I’d do anything to get them. Stores don’t even have change here.. sometimes if you buy something that’s 4.50 and you don’t have change, you’ll either 1) not be allowed to make your purchase or 2) be given little chocolate candies instead of change. It’s so much fun, it’s like a game to get change here! Since you’re only allowed to use coins to ride the bus,finding creative ways to get coins at this point is my favorite pastime. I’d even consider whoring myself out for a few pesos of change! I may end up with syphilis, but at least I’ll be able to ride the bus!

Freak 2: The Magician Pablo:
So, about 10 minutes after the girl /change machine left, a deaf and mute magician named Pablo came to our table and began to mouth words to us. It’s pretty hard for me to read lips in the first place, but reading lips in Spanish is even harder. After explaining hwat he was going to do, he began to do a series of magic tricks in front of us. The magic tricks were pretty awesome, except for one which needed lots of work, because I obviously saw the cards in his hand, but we did give him a few pesos for his effort. He moved on to the next table and started performing the same tricks, but Rachel called him out and I think he was kinda pissed because the girls that he was performing for spoke English. I also don’t think he was deaf, because everytime we yelled out what he was going to do, he turned around. I’m pretty sure he spoke fluent English as well, because we kept talking shit about him and he made faces at us. To most people, this is an annoyance, but I call it cheap entertainment. 1 peso to be entertained by a deaf and dumb musician on a hot summer day while drinking a cold Stella Artois in one of the coolest plazas of Buenos Aires??!?! That’s a steal!


Freak 3: The movie vendor (not really a freak, just a normal bootleg movie dealer, but since the previous two were, I had to follow the pattern)
This guy came to our table to sell us movies… I love that they have amazing bootleg movies here, for so cheap! In the past two weeks, I’ve purchased Milk, Vicky Christina Barcelona, Slumdog Milionaire, Yes Man, Seven Souls, and Gran Torino all for a grand total of $15 dollars. How is this even possible?!? By the way, the word for bootleg in Spanish is TRUCHO. It’s my new favorite vocabulary word… next to peluca.
PS, Argentines are obsessed with wigs.

We left Plaza Serrano, and went and ordered a dozen empanadas to be delivered to the house. My friend Oliver came over, and I watched Oliver and Rachel dance to latin music while we also took tequila shots chased by blue curacao. Disgusting. Anyways, we were all fucked, so we took a taxi over to Palermo to meet up with the guys from my Rotary program. We hung out with the Rotary scholars for a while, drank martinis (martinis here aren’t made with vermouth?!? What the helll?) , actually, the martini was so awful that I had to send it back, and I opted for a long island iced tea. I was so drunk I couldn’t remember the word for “gulp”, so I kept telling everyone that I was going to down the long island iced in three “cuotas” (payments). I thought it was funny, but since that sounds really weird in Spanish, no one else was really laughing. We left there, purchased more alcohol in the back of a shady empanada shop, and me, Oliver and Rachel stood in the line for Club 69, having beer race competitions with random foreigners. Once we got in, I bought us a bottle of champagne for celebration (not really sure what I was celebrating, but it was only $20 bucks!) and we met up with Martin and Leo again. I danced at Club 69 until about 6am in the morning, and then we took the colectivo home and passed out.

So now, I’m here at McDonalds, surrounded by beautiful Argentines, waiting for my friends to come over so we can go out tonight. In order for the club to be free tonight, we have to be there BY 3 am (insane)… so I guess we have plenty of time! I’ll update you tomorrow hopefully! 

Life in Argentina - Week 2

 Roberto Jeremías Bútler on Friday, March 13, 2009 at 4:31pm

Hola todos! I'm just here, still adjusting to life in a foreign country. Everything is different, the sounds, the smells, the people, the nightlife, the language, everything... and I absolutely love it. Week 2 was pretty damn interesting, so here's a recap.

24 Hour Locksmith- Most profitable business ever?
So, after a long tiring day of walking around Buenos Aires, I finally return home. I was planning to go over to my friend Oliver's house for his birthday party, but something terrible happened. Here in Argentina, some doors automatically lock behind you if you shut them... I was going to let my friend Rodrigo out, and when I did, I accidently grabbed his keys instead of mine because all keys here look the same. PS, all the keys are HUGe and look like skeleton keys, like magical keys that are supposed to open things like a hidden chest full of gold, a secret passage, etc, not an apartment building! Anyways, I realized my mistake, so we tried to think of different solutions ranging from breaking into my apartment with a wire, calling the landlord (who didn't have a spare set of keys?), to scaling the wall and opening my window. Needless to say, none of these worked. My friend went out to find a locksmith while I just kinda sat in the hall, no shoes and in the dark. Even worse, in Argentina, there's always a bit of an issue with security, so people don't feel very safe with having random people just hanging around in the halls near their apartment building. I felt bad because I was just sitting there in the hall ,scaring everyone shitless who came up the stairs to find a foreign shoeless man, sitting at the top of the stairs in the dark. Anyways, the locksmith finally came and unlocked my door within about 15 minutes. Then, the most ridiculous thing ever happened. Here's the conversation, translated of course:
Rob: How much?
Locksmith: Yeah, that'll be 325 pesos. Oh wait, its Saturday, and it's night, so there's an additional 100% surcharge.
Rob: What?? (Ok children, for those who don't know, 650 pesos is ALOT of money to pay for a locksmith. Some people here spend 650 pesos a month for rent!! 650 pesos = 200 dollars, but the buying power of 650 pesos is HUGE)
Locksmith (w/ a stone cold face): Yeah, sorry. You live in Recoleta, so of course I'm going to charge you more. We charge based on the area of town that you live in. If you lived somewhere cheaper, of course I'd charge you less.

At this point, three things became very apparent to me. 1) This wasn't a joke 2) Price discrimination in Argentina is A-OK, and 3) I was kinda fucked

Rob: Ok, wow, well since I don't carry around 650 pesos with me, I'll just pay with my card.
Locksmith: Sure, but we'll have to charge you 40% extra for that too.
Rob's thoughts: Wow, really? Who is this guy?

At this point, the situation was so ridiculous that it became comical and I began to chuckle...

Rob: Ok, well I won't do that. Can I just pay in American dollars? The exchange rate right now is 3.6 pesos to 1 dollar.
Locksmith: Sure. But (of course there's always a but) I can only change it at 3.2 pesos to the dollar.

Not willing to lose 80 pesos, nor pay by credit card for obvious reasons, I went down, pulled 650 pesos out of the ATm, and sent the locksmith on his way. My Argentine friends have told me that a locksmith here costs roughly 80-100 pesos. Awesome.

I told my realtor (who has become a good friend oddly enough) about the incident, so she told me that we should go report it to the customer defense, similar to the better business bureau. The way things work in this country, I pretty much guessed that I'd be wasting my time... Anyways, she called the locksmith four days later, only to find out that the address that was on the receipt didn't exist, and the number didn't work as well. Oh well, I guess I'm not getting my money back, but at least I've learned a very valuable lesson.

Yesterday:
Ok, what I hope to do is just start writing daily instead of weekly. I want to document all of my experiences because it's so awesome, so here's my attempt at describing yesterday's madness.
For those of you who don't know, my best friend Rachel is here in Argentina visiting me for a month! Anyways, we woke up at around 1pm, and took the metro to the Microcentro. Upon arrival, we went to an internet cafe and put our names on the guestlist for Club 69, one of the hottest Thursday night clubs in BA. Oddly enough, we got a coupon that gave us a free beer and a free hot dog if we got there before 3 am. What super posh nightclub also gives hot dogs out as promos? I mean, it makes sense because drunk people are hungry, but when I think upscale nightclub.. I think Grey Goose, not Oscar Meyer. Anyways, we walked around the city a bunch, and stopped to have lunch/dinner with my friend Rodrigo at this restaurant. It was around 6pm, and we were the ONLy ones in the restaurant. Argentines don't eat until around 11pm, so 6pm is ridiculous. And when I say only ones in the restaurant, I'm not kidding. Anyways, for 19.50 pesos ($5.34 or 4 euros for my European readers) we got: A choice of any drink (including wine), a nice size steak, fries or salad, a choice of dessert, and a tea or a coffee. Insane. $5.34?!?
After returning home and resting, Rachel and I took a taxi out to a pool hall to meet my American friend Adam and his friends. We drank, drank, drank, and prepped ourselves for a wild night at Club 69. My friend Martin came and joined us, and we hopped in another taxi to go to Club 69. Apparently, since we got there after 3 (people go clubbing LATE here), we missed the guest list. They wanted 50 pesos to get in, and since it didn't come with a free drink, nor a free hot dog, we peaced out and went to the wildest club in the Southern Hemisphere (bold statement, but true), AmeriKa. It definitely lived up to its reputation. Martin, Rachel, Adam and I danced like crazy all night, jumping up and down, screaming.. I loved it. There were so many people, similar to nightclubs in Ibiza. We left the nightclub at 6... Rachel had bloody feet for some reason, but I guess that means we had a good time. On the way home, we stopped to get hot dogs. The lady who was selling the hot dogs told us that only 2 were ready, and the other one wouldn't be ready for five minutes or so. Not willing to wait, we decided to just take two, but magically the 3rd hot dog was ready. I'm sure it was completely undercooked, but when its 6 am, you're hungry and your friends have bloody feet, undercooked hot dogs are the least of your concerns. Anyways, for some reason I started kissing the lady selling the hot dogs. I don't think she was having any of it, but I was in kind of a touchy feely (read: creepy) mood, so I just leaned over the counter and planted a big one on her.

We returned home at 6 am, opened more wine, and I watched Rachel and Adam play boggle. I decided to be the judge for drunken words that probably didn't exist, but since I only had a Russian-English dictionary, I wasn't much of a help, so I just passed out.

Welcome to Argentina :)