Being a tourist!
On Christmas Eve, Naomi and I "popped out for some food", cut to 8 hours later after spending the equivalent of an entire working day in the same restaurant drinking champagne as though our lives depended on it, we eventually fell home at 4am after the following happening at the restaurant....
- We invited two Americans to Christmas dinner
- I made one of them promise to write to me every two weeks for the next year of his life (no idea why, probably no reason)
- I thought I had left the restaurant and was in a different bar
- Naomi got a drink rash
- A French man made a pass at me
- A random man flashed his ´"bits" at us
- We got a photograph of the "bits"
It was an eventful night.
Christmas day we had friends over to the apartment for dinner. They were staying a couple of blocks away and were making half the meal and transporting it over by foot. The meal arrived in installments as did some extra chairs and various bits. The turkey however, walked himself over and arrived nude, which we thought was inappropriate, so we cooked and ate him.
Throughout the meal there was one thing that stood out, shone above all the other dishes...the stuffing. The turkey actually stuffed himself with it and declared it an honour to be filled with such a succulent delight. The onions in it were chopped to perfection, the breadcrumbs just crumby enough, if the stuffing were a man it would have been Brad Pitt. "Who made such an amazing dish, you ask?" Well, I don´t like to brag but.....
New years eve, we went over to our friends apartment for drinks. There was a semi randomer there who after consuming alot of alcohol decided to tell me his secret, which was that he has murdered two people and then asked what I thought of that. I think I said something like "Well, its none of my business, fair enough", but then wondered what he did with people after he shared this nugget with them? Understandably I felt a little uncomfortable around him after this and edged away from him slowly. I wanted to share this information with the others as I thought that if he was now thinking of killing me, perhaps I would have more chance of survival if this became a "mass murder" situation rather than a solitary (and lonely) execution. I told one of the boys about the murder confession and he thought I was over reacting a little and to forget about it. Asking me to once again pose the question which goes round and round my head constantly in bright green flashing letters and to the theme tune of Dallas.... "Am I the only normal one here?!"
The general consensus after that night was that the "murderer" was probably not telling the truth and is in fact perhaps just a deranged liar. If there´s one thing I hate more than murderers it´s liars (and Celine Dion). Speaking of lying, Naomi and I decided to drop little white lies into conversations with randomers for no reason whatsoever. We started it before she left and in her honour, I will endeavour to continue her good work on that front.
In Argentina the steak and red wine are so cheap, who can blame me for becoming a fat alcoholic with a high protein intake? Who? After many many many crazy nights (and days) out in Buenos Aires we decided to leave before our internal organs, which are now dyed red from all the wine (I´ll drink to that) decided to leave without us. Naomi unfortunatly is now gone, banished back to the UK, which leaves me wondering if she ever really existed in the first place, so Julie and I are slowly making our way back towards Bolivia where we will be visions of health and follow a strict detoxing plan (maybe). Unfortunately, however en route we have managed to come across yet another party town and the other night had a lock in at a bar until 8am where we were plied with free booze, proving that yes, indeed ... it pays to flirt with the barman.
Me and the bar man.
What flirting with the bar man gets you.
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