You may have noticed that I've been derelict in my blogging duties. Today's the first chance to catch up. Content may be less at a time, but that's likely for the best.
As mentioned in the previous post, I finally have a couch. I received it on Valentine's Day, but not without some confusion. Belu decided to play cute, and misled me into thinking they were delivering the couch without my having paid the majority of the money owed. This would make no sense in the US, let alone here. But I assumed she had worked some kind of magic. Nopes, she was just finding a way to keep me in the house, instead of off trying to pay up to the furniture store. So when I saw balloons in our video phone (yeah, this apartment has a video phone for security's sake - it's the most rockstar-ish thing about me!), I knew something was up.
Turns out, she had ordered a surprise breakfast to be delivered. I tried to eat it all, but with everything from medialunas to dulce de leche desserts to tea and coffee included, I only plowed my way through about half. Needless to say, I had plenty of energy for the Big Red frisbee game.
Since I'm dating a porteña, I rarely make the plans all on my own. Belu knows the city as well as I know Chicago (or rather, as well as I knew Chicago - I've been here six months!). So it's often much easier for her to make the plans. But on V-day, I was going to take charge. Luckily, it's not like Chicago when every decent restaurant is booked weeks in advance because I didn't set the plan until the day before. I had a list of three options. The first was jammed, but my second choice seemed good. No reservations available, but it sounded like two of us wouldn't have to wait that long.
We hopped in a cab, and I refused to tell her where we were going. But as we approached Jangada, she pointed and asked, "Is it that one?" Of course, it turned out to be the restaurant where she eats lunch twice a week. Ups. We walked in and everyone working there greeted her like they were old friends. Because, well, they kind of are. But no matter, we sat down and had a great meal. We shared a fish called dorado, which is definitely not trout or flounder or salmon, but darn tasty whatever it was. We coupled the badass dorado with a goodass malbec and had ourselves a tasty dinner, regardless of my failings as an event planner.
I asked the waitress if Valentine's Day was a big deal here. She smiled sincerely and said, "Sí, es un día especial." I don't know if I believe her, as there was little fanfare around town. But anyway, Belu and I had a great day and look forward to other imported American holidays.
As mentioned in the previous post, I finally have a couch. I received it on Valentine's Day, but not without some confusion. Belu decided to play cute, and misled me into thinking they were delivering the couch without my having paid the majority of the money owed. This would make no sense in the US, let alone here. But I assumed she had worked some kind of magic. Nopes, she was just finding a way to keep me in the house, instead of off trying to pay up to the furniture store. So when I saw balloons in our video phone (yeah, this apartment has a video phone for security's sake - it's the most rockstar-ish thing about me!), I knew something was up.
Globos de veracidad
Turns out, she had ordered a surprise breakfast to be delivered. I tried to eat it all, but with everything from medialunas to dulce de leche desserts to tea and coffee included, I only plowed my way through about half. Needless to say, I had plenty of energy for the Big Red frisbee game.
Oreo cookies for breakfast? Okay!
Since I'm dating a porteña, I rarely make the plans all on my own. Belu knows the city as well as I know Chicago (or rather, as well as I knew Chicago - I've been here six months!). So it's often much easier for her to make the plans. But on V-day, I was going to take charge. Luckily, it's not like Chicago when every decent restaurant is booked weeks in advance because I didn't set the plan until the day before. I had a list of three options. The first was jammed, but my second choice seemed good. No reservations available, but it sounded like two of us wouldn't have to wait that long.
Unfortunately, I forgot my camera again, so all the phone-photos turned out with this kind of quality. But look, I have a magic hand!
We hopped in a cab, and I refused to tell her where we were going. But as we approached Jangada, she pointed and asked, "Is it that one?" Of course, it turned out to be the restaurant where she eats lunch twice a week. Ups. We walked in and everyone working there greeted her like they were old friends. Because, well, they kind of are. But no matter, we sat down and had a great meal. We shared a fish called dorado, which is definitely not trout or flounder or salmon, but darn tasty whatever it was. We coupled the badass dorado with a goodass malbec and had ourselves a tasty dinner, regardless of my failings as an event planner.
Check out his badass face! I know this picture looks lousy, but this was a great meal.
I asked the waitress if Valentine's Day was a big deal here. She smiled sincerely and said, "Sí, es un día especial." I don't know if I believe her, as there was little fanfare around town. But anyway, Belu and I had a great day and look forward to other imported American holidays.
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3 comments:
Ola amigos, you reminded me of OUR V-Day dinner, where the male too selected the place and it was memorable only because it was such a disaster, from end to end. I'd discovered this African-Ethiopian spot near Howard Street and it sounded different and special. It WAS, but in the wrong direction. In spite of our reservation we waited over 35 minutes (and should have walked). Then more long waiting for menus, order-taking and food arrival. And the food was quite ordinary and not all of it hot. The saving grace: When you take a young date out and the place turns sour, that's tragic. When you do it to your spouse of nearly 40 years, you (both) get over it. Hopefully we'll compensate on Valentine's Day 2010, if not before.
where is the picture of Belu? :)
I second that.
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