Yesterday was very action-packed.  As usual, I almost slept through my alarm and had to all but sprint down Avenida Santa Fé to make it on time for my 9 am class.  It was super humid and I was wearing leg detention centers (a.k.a. pants) for the first time in two months so I was already very uncomfortable.  I thought that the day was going to be IN-SOP-ORT-ABLE.  Luckily I wasn’t late, so I sat down and waited for Mariano to teach us about Latin American culture and telenovelas when the most phenomenal thing happened:

Mariano walked into class…wearing cut-off shorts.  I don’t think I can fully articulate how truly wonderful it was.  All I could think was, “Sweet Jesus…this is the true meaning of insoportable.”  Then he starting fanning himself because of how humid it was and I nearly fainted.  Even though I sound extremely besotted (and slightly crazy) in this blog, I take pride in what a cool, calm, and collected cucumber I am in his class.  We learned about Boleros, a genre of Latin American music that is basically about unrequited love, lost love, abandonment, rejection and other equally joyous and euphoric themes.  I wanted to say, “Mariano, you know how you wrote the encyclopedia on being gay in South America?  Well, I have a PhD in all of these themes, so maybe I should lead the discussion today.”  But instead I commented on how the person singing the bolero found life to be insoportable without his love, which impressed Mariano.  WAM, BAM, YOU-LOOK-SO-FINE-IN-THOSE-SHORTS, GOD DAMN!

After class, Ben, Courtney, Emma, and I went to an organic cafe near school for lunch.  I ordered toast and, whoa, it was the most delicious toast of my life.  It came with apple and raspberry jam and cream and I was so happy to finally have bread because my host-mom is the most anti-bread woman on the planet.  The closest thing we have to bread in the house are whole-grain crackers.  I’m not okay with it.  Anyway, after my tasty toast and café con leche, I decided to eat a Listerine Pocket Pack Strip.  Such a bad idea.  While it was melting in my mouth, I felt a sneeze coming and I thought, “Well…this is gonna be really cute” as I Listersneezed and sent Listerine spewing out of my mouth.  It was truly horrific and Ben didn’t know about the Listerine element and thought that I usually sneezed hurricanes and was repulsed.  I don’t blame you, bud.  

When I got back, Arielle and Phoebe told me that Mariano had bought facturas (Argentine pastries) for their class and I was LIVID.  They lived two of my Mariano-related fantasies at once (him in shorts AND involving pastries)!  He might as well had jumped out of a giant medialuna and drizzled himself in dulce de leche! It was insoportable, IN-SOP-ORT-ABLE!  Phoebe had to cheer me up somehow, so she told me about the inappropriate slang Mariano teaches in her class.  Get ready for a quick Spanish lesson, brought to you by the letter G:

Tirar la gorra: to give a blowjob 
Garchar: to have sex
Gomía: friend 
i.e. Sabrina garcha y tira las gorras de todos los chicos.  Ella no es mi gomía, ella es una puta.  (Sabrina has sex and blows all the guys.  She’s not my friend, she’s a whore.)

Later at night I finally went to La Bomba de Tiempo for the first time.  La Bomba is a drum show that happens every Monday night in Buenos Aires and it’s AMAZING.  They play for about two hours non-stop and everyone at the show dances and sings and is very in tune with the music.  

It’s basically how you always wanted to dance in public (like a lunatic, obviously) but was always too embarrassed to do.  Tons of people were there and it was such a different atmosphere from bars and clubs in Recoleta and Palermo—the majority of the people were the artsy, grungy residents of Buenos Aires.  At one point I felt like I was at a CocoRosie concert in the middle of the Amazon because this opera singer began singing along to the crazy drum beat and the guy dancing next to me started squaking like a bird.

This guy was feeling the music like none other:


But at the end of the night, the winner for most original team dancing went to Ben and Phoebe:


You know, just your typical Monday night.  How can I ever be expected to leave Buenos Aires?!