La vida en Palermo Soho

Day seven in Buenos Aires. Nights are hot. Days are hotter. I’ve spent most of my time in my little neighbourhood of Palermo Soho. It is so beautiful here; the cobbled streets are lined with giant leafy green trees. Attractive people, young and old, lazily walk through the streets with sun kissed skin. Buildings old and new blend together with such symmetry that it is as though life here was timeless.

And life here does seem timeless. At least for me it does. I think the hardest part of my trip so far has been getting accustomed to the Argentine lifestyle. Dinner at 10, drinks at midnight, clubbing at 2 am. And I know for the average porteño, this is not the way life works 7 days a week. But still, my poor body is already starting to feel the effects, and a regular 2 hour siesta has become a daily ritual in order to survive my new lifestyle.

Even though I’ve only been here a week, I’ve learned a lot about Buenos Aires. Traffic here is an art. Lanes are not a law but a guideline. Cabs almost outnumber savillions. Pedestrians do not have the right of way. Cars don’t seem to have indicators, and will not stop just because you are crossing. But you learn quickly how to cross the street and stay in one piece. It starts with the number one rule, always cross with the locals. After a while, you learn to cross as though you were a local. You venture out into the intersection. You look directly at the driver, show you are not afraid, and then give him the stink eye for not stopping as he whizzes past you. It’s a delicate and intract game of chicken essential to life in the city.

People here too are so different from the people in Vancouver. I can’t get over how different porteñas are from Vancouver women, and porteños from Vancouver men. And I hate to admit, Argentines make Vancouverites look like country bumpkins.

The women in Buenos Aires are beautiful. They are all beautiful. Even the unattractive women have a je ne sais qoui that can make any foreigner rubber neck as she passes by. I think the secret is Argentine women do not try to be beautiful. They just are. Yes they are into fashion like the rest of us. And even a poorer Argentine woman in her outfit she bought on the cheap in Once is more put together than any woman in Vancouver heading to the grocery store or doing her day to day things. I think it’s in the culture- to dress and behave as best as you can afford. I’ve seen babies in outfits better than me. This has to be the way. And it’s not just how the women in Buenos Aires dress. It is how they behave. I think they’ve mastered what Vancouver women have been trying to master for decades- they are strong independent women without the hard edge. Ok, yes I know women in Buenos Aires hate other women. Especially beautiful women. And they are the first to be rude to another woman simply because she’s jealous of her outfit. At the same time, a smile can change everything, and once you’ve simply made acquaintances, women in Buenos Aires can be the most gracefully friendly people you’ve ever met. Unlike Vancouver, where, if you smile at a woman she either gives you a look that could kill, or desperately digs through her bag to find her “ringing phone”. Honestly, I think women in Vancouver could learn a whole lot from women in Buenos Aires.

The last time I was in Buenos Aires, we all joked about how we should bring back an Argentine man to teach men in Vancouver how to romance a woman. This trip, I feel the same. Argentine are lovers through and through. They are gentleman. Today I had my first trip on the subte. There was one seat available- one man was standing closest to it, the rest of the standees were women. The man made a point of offering the seat to every single woman before he himself sat down. Then, as soon as another woman got on the train, he offered his seat to her. He did it in such a natural way, and everyone around acted as though this is the way to do things. In my week here, I’ve had men open doors, let me a head of them in line, all things polite short of carrying my groceries to my home. And I know it’s not because I’m an obvious foreigner, because I’ve seen them do the same things to Argentine women. And even when they shout out cat calls, they say things like “Good afternoon. You look so beautiful today. Have a great evening.” The closest thing you get to “hey baby” is a kiss sound, which is usually followed by “Buenos tardes preciosa”. My friend believes they behave like this because they all live with their mum’s until they are married. But I think it’s something more. I think a bit of old fashioned courtesy that hasn’t yet been lost in this great big city. I will miss that when I return home.

I love living here. It has only been a week, and I’ve taken to the Palermo Soho lifestyle like a fish to water. I can’t even imagine coming home right now. But we all have to come home sometime. For now, I will absorb as much of this amazing city as my little body will allow.

Lady of Leisure

It is day 4 of my month long holiday in Buenos Aires, and I already can’t remember what it was like living in Vancouver. Yes I miss my friends, my cats, my family, my co-worker, but being a lady of leisure suites me very well. And I know with each passing day, coming home is going to break my heart.

Every day I am over whelmed with emotion, knowing that, for the first time in my life, I’m doing something I have always wanted to do. I am living my dream. Since 2008 I have wanted to spend an entire month in Buenos Aires. To pretend I am a porteña, to walk the streets in my cute summer dresses and cute summer shoes. To drink café con leche on restaurant patios as I watch the world pass by. And here I am, actually living it, actually experiencing something that I have longed to experience.

Unapologetically and unquestionably happy.

Maybe it’s me, or maybe it’s the fact I’m a woman, or maybe it’s even Canadian culture, but when good things happen in my life, I always feel guilty and undeserving. Not anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful. I feel incredibly blessed to be able to live in a part of the world where I have the opportunity to fulfill long life dreams.

Ok, I did work my ass off for it. Yes I did bleed and cry and ache and loose copious amounts of hair due to pushing my body and mind into some of the most stressful situations of my life. But I did it with a goal in mind. And, for once in my entire life, I reached a goal that I set out to accomplish.

The amount of satisfaction I feel right at this very moment is unmeasureable.

So today when I stroll past Plaze Serrano and down Borges to my favourite Supermarcedo to buy orange juice and wine, I will smile with my face in the sun.

Incredibly happy, satisfied, and blessed to be me.

Year Of Bliss

January 2nd, 2012. After a raucous New Years Eve, I’ve spent the better part of the last two days in my pajamas. My hair in a messy bun. My eyes raccooned by both over an indulgence of alcohol, and by thickly placed eyeliner that just won’t quite wash off. I have surfaced only once, to stumble to the local Starbucks in order to obtain one of my 31 free cups of coffee, a gift given to me by my mum, who understands the tight relationship I have with Caffeine, my dark sultry mistress. My house looks as though I’ve thrown the party of the year, yet it’s just been me and the cats bumbling about the top floor of a house that I share with an equally busy roommate. And still I sit on cushions on the floor, not motivated to do anything but watch tv, eat salty snacks, and religiously check facebook.

Is this a good way to begin a new year, unkempt, and unproductive? Yes, I say it is. For this is the year that I do nothing but things that make me happy, things that bring me pleasure, things that relieve all the stresses in my life.

2012 is The Year of Bliss.

I have named all my years since 2008, the year that I graduated university, moved out of my parent’s house, and declared myself a grown-up. Ironically, I’ve done a great majority of my growing up in these last four years. Every year I take as a blessing, and with even the bad experiences, I am grateful for all the lessons learned, even those lessons that came with several bumps and bruises. They are scars that I carry with pride, marks that say to me- don’t go there again, Michelle, don’t go there again. Yet, with the bad came the good. I met friends that i will love for life, and had adventures that I will charish forever.

2008 was Year of the Party. Now I had been going out to clubs for many years before, but it was 2008, right after I graduated, that I took to clubbing like a bird takes to air. I spent the summers of 2008 going out Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and sometimes even Mondays. I had the stamina of a 19 year old and the savvyness of a 28 year old. I had never been a big partier in my teens, nor was I in my early 20’s. Although I did go out once in a while, I was fairly conservative and spent most of my time at home practicing dance or studying. I was a good kid. But graduating university was like breaking a seal. It was as though I had all this pent up rebellious energy that I needed to release, and release it I did. There was not a dance floor that I didn’t burn up, not a drink that I didn’t buy. 2008 was my Studio 54.

I deemed 2009 Year of the Flirt. Obviously, with all the clubbing and partying I was doing in 2008 I had many encounters with the opposite sex. But in 2009 I took it to a new level. For some reason, I had it in my mind that moving out of my parents house meant that I was supposed to obtain a boyfriend. And so I went hunting. I hit night clubs, house parties, even tried online dating. Some was successful, some not so much, but I never did find the boyfriend that I had wanted so badly. Which led to 2010:

Year of the Broken Heart

I had so many romantic blunders in 2010 I almost considered giving up on men altogether. Almost. I kept dating one bad guy after another, and began to believe that there was no such thing as a good man. It was the end of 2010, when I was hit by the biggest heart break of my life, that I realized I was searching out bad men because I didn’t believe I deserved any better. I decided that I was better off on my own then trying to be good enough for a man who didn’t deserve me in the first place.

That is why I called 2011 Year of The Bitch. It was not just because of all the crap men I was allowing step all over my life, but because I realized I was a push over in almost every aspect of my life. I never put myself first in anything I did, and I was becoming more and more unhappy because of it. So, in January of 2011, I decided that I was going to put myself first in EVERY aspect of my life. It was a difficult thing to do, and I didn’t always follow my own rules. But I ended 2011 feeling so good about myself. For the first time that I can ever remember, I am satisfied with myself. I enjoy spending time with myself. I think of myself as beautiful, smart, fun. It’s a level of confidence that I never believed I could obtain.

And so, with my new found confidence, I will commit myself to seek out the bliss that I know I deserve. So I name 2012, Year of Bliss, for it will be the year that I will unabashedly and unapologetically seek out the pleasure and happiness that I should have had many years ago.

My first step, I am taking my dream vacation- 35 days of heat and sunshine in my most favourite city in the world, Buenos Aires. I plan to drink the best wine I can afford, meditate on bright patio’s, slowly sip café con leche as I watch the world pass all around me. I will dance till the wee hours of the morning and chat with beautiful latin men, let them woo me, to romance me, then giggle my way home, all on my own. It will be grand. And the best part will be knowing that I am allowed to be happy. This is the year that I find bliss.

My next few blogs will be about my travels. Technology willing, I hope to keep an online journal about my adventures in Buenos Aires. So keep checking in if want to keep up.

It's going to be a fast ride.