Random Observations

Jujuy was so different from Buenos Aires that coming back made me feel a little like I was rediscovering Buenos Aires again. I've started taking certain quirks of Argentine culture for granted — and while that means I'm not bewildered and overwhelmed by everything from the city layout to which cheese I want on my sandwich, I also like to take a step back once in a while and observe.

Argentina, or at least Buenos Aires, is similar enough to the United States that the differences really only come out in the details. Here are a few of my favorites:

Kisses — This one's pretty standard in other countries, but I love it. My hands are so sweaty that I always get really uncomfortable about the impression I make on other people when I shake their hands. Then I make a doubly bad impression, because not only are my hands sweaty but I'm acting all awkward about it. A simple air kiss totally solves the problem. And it's funny to see how quickly the American guys on the program have picked the habit up with girls — and how awkward they get when Argentine guys try to do to them.

Mate — It's not uncommon to see people, on the subte or walking down the street, carting big metal thermoses full of hot water around in one hand and hollowed gourds filled with mate leaves in the other. Yerba mate is a tea drunk loose-leaf out of a gourd or wooden cup (also called a mate) with a metal straw called a bombilla, and it's one of the few things in Buenos Aires that I can think of that's totally indigenous in origin. Its consumption in Argentina is a tradition that comes close to a ritual, and I went through three mate gourds before I finally found one that worked for me. The first one molded, the second one cracked, and the one I have now (which cost me four pesos at a grocery store) is perfect.

Delivery — This is really more of a big-city thing than an Argentina thing, but you can get everything delivered to your house here. Groceries, late-night empanadas, doggy toys, even wine and beer. Stores aren't allowed to sell alcohol from the storefront after 11 pm (strangely early in a city where people are just finishing dinner at midnight), but you can call a store and have it delivered to your house free of charge. The best, and most Argentine, thing you can get delivered is gelato. One night my friends and I went looking for ice cream after dinner, but it was 1 am and all the stores were closed. So we went back to Veronica's house, called Persicco — a famous gelatería — and 40 minutes later were finishing off a kilogram of chocolate mousse, dulce de leche and lemon pie ice cream between the five of us.

Dietéticas — Coming from California to a foreign country can be hard. Apparently flaxseed, wheat germ and anything containing Omega-3 fatty acids aren't considered staples here like they are in San Francisco. Who knew? Most Argentines live off a diet of medialunas (mini-croissants) for breakfast, empanadas for lunch, white toast for a snack, and pasta for dinner — enough white carbs to feed the Pillsbury Doughboy for months. But fortunately, there are health food stores, called dietéticas, on pretty much every corner. (I haven't figured out how they're so ubiquitous, since the average Argentine wouldn't let a sprouted grain within a mile of his buttery medialuna.) They mostly sell dried fruit, nuts and whole grains, alongside herbal tea and cookies made with fake sugar. I'm not entirely sure what the unifying principle is behind their stock, since the aspartame in the fake-sugar cookies defeats the purpose of "natural" foods and the calories in the nuts defeat the purpose of "diet" foods, but they're good for making me laugh while I buy sunflower seeds and quinoa.

Wine — When I splurge on wine, I pay nine pesos, or three US dollars. Enough said.