Birthday countdown...how many pieces of sushi can you eat?

I love my birthday in Buenos Aires.  It is so special.  About 2 months ago my friends starting asking me what I was going to do for my birthday.  How could I think about my birthday in March?  Then all of a sudden it was May, and the the week before.  Then my friends really started to bug me.  What happened to Argentine spontaneity? 

The real problem was my desk top computer was dying a slow painful death.  Or maybe it was sick.  I was choosing to ignore it.  I hate hardware.  I always have.  I deal with it because it is a vehicle to software. Finally the power supply sounded like it was going to go out the kitchen window.  Time to replace it.  That I could do.  Only that did not solve the major problem, and finally my computer decided not to boot anymore.  Sob.

I knew it wasn't the hard drive.  It was something stupid like the memory or the video card.  I just hate dealing with technical people here.  It is so annoying.  I have to listen to everything they don't know about computers.  I called one guy, and 5 minutes on the phone with him was enough to make me want to kill him.  I ended up going to the place where I bought my power supply.

Things don't move fast in Argentina.  I had my laptop.  I had backups of all my data.  But I didn't have copies of the my mailing list or all my software.  Bad Deby.  How many years did I have in computers.  So that has been my excuse.  I hate using my laptop to write or to do much with.  So no blog posts. 

"IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY!" my friends were screaming at me.  "OK, OK, soy medio vaga." I tell them.  Finally I got it together.  We celebrate 3 days.  Saturday today a bunch of my friends and I are going to the Korean barrio to a great sushi restaurant.  Tomorrow we are having a big bash in my apartment, and Monday in the milonga.  Last night when I told Lucy it was my birthday and to please come on Monday, she wanted to know why I didn't celebrate on Friday with them and insisted I do it on Wednesday.  I remember the year I celebrated in 7 milongas.  I can't eat that much cake anymore.

People accuse me of not eating much of anything these days but it is not true.  I eat. It cracks me up. The men used to tease me about being "rellenita", now they are concerned about me.  Am I sick, am I ok.  I lost 10 kilos.  I am back to my California weight, before the accident.  Last night one old guy in the milonga told me I looked better fat.  It seems you are never right.  Whatever....

This must be my ethnic food day.  Sharon came by and we went to lunch with Kathy and Peter.  My two wonderful guests from Canada.  California Burrito opened up a branch on Godoy Cruz.  I felt like I had to have Mexican food.  I knew it was not going to be like Tacqueria San Jose on International Blvd in Oakland, but maybe it would be close.  A girl can dream.  At least there would be no lady behind the counter trying to fix me up with the cook.

It was a beautiful day. Hot.  I don't remember a May like this since 2002.  Kathy and Peter had not walked this way before.  I told them how this used to be the red zone.  I remember coming down this street late at night or early in the morning coming home from a milonga and the street would be filled with transvestites parading and looking for work.  Definitely not the scene now.

We finally land in California Burrito.  You get to pick what you want inside your burrito.  There is a really cute guy behind the counter who speaks perfect English.  Everyone who works there is very friendly.  The service is excellent.  The cute guy is from Puerto Rico. 

I get a burrito with chicken, rice, beans,vegetables, cheese, guacamole,and the hottest sauce they have.  I get taco chips and more sauce and a drink.  My eyes are bigger than my stomach. We go up on the roof to eat.  It is so pleasant.

I bite into my burrito.  It is not Tacqueria San Jose.  But for Buenos Aires, it is good.  I am happy.  I eat the whole thing.  It is better than anything else I have eaten that passes for Mexican food here. Plus the service is so good and the place is so nice, comfortable. I am happy. I can even walk there.

Now I am waiting for my friends so we can go to Barrio Coreano. The bell rings.  Maximiliana as usual goes psycho.  She thinks every door bell is Juan waiting to take her out.  It is nearly impossible to get her to stop doing the NASCAR race around the apartment with the fire bell bark.  Sometimes I want to send her over the balcony, but she runs too fast.

I am expecting Katie, but it is Deirdre.  I met Deirdre from Patrick.  Patrick and I share the same birthday.  He couldn't  come to BA to celebrate so he sent Deirdre, another crazy gemini.  We connected right away.  She has a big beautiful boquet of the most gorgeous flowers for me.  Maxie wants to eat them.  What can you say about a dog who wants to eat gum off the sidewalk?

Finally Katie comes. She is living in Neocochea.  I met  her through her blog.  She came to live there after meeting her future husband online in a language exchange site.  Neocochea is a small town on the beach south of Mar del Plata.  We had lunch on Friday and I loved listening to her story.

I don't have many ex-pat friends, but when I meet people, it is always interesting to hear their stories, to find what brings them to Argentina, to Buenos Aires.  Something more than "It was cheap" or "To dance tango"  Love stories are always the best.

We hop in a taxi.  Our driver is very entertaining.  I tell him where we want to go.  He is immediately grossed out.  "You are going to eat in that barrio?"  He ask.  I tell him "Yes, Barrio Correano is my favorite place to eat."  This begins a spirited diatribe with him telling us that he Koreans eat dog and cat, and he cannot believe we will be eating there.  He goes into great detail about it.  It is hysterically funny.  At one point he tells us that are only two things in life that scare him "Gays and Koreans".  We hope he never meets a Gay Korean or the poor guy will die of a heart attack.

We enter the restaurant.  Greg, Fred, and Karina are already there.  They give us one of the little rooms.  Us ethnically culturally deprived Americans are thrilled.  Once seated the waitress begins to bring the food.  Many plates of different food.  I tell my friends "I hope you are hungry." I explain to them how David my Korean friend once told me that Koreans believe you should concentrate on eating and not on the food.  That is why there is no menu and they just bring you food.  Each restaurant has a specialty and people just know that.  Everyone agrees that it is so much nicer.  More relaxed.

Dinner conversation is interesting.  Everyone has a story to tell.  Fred tells us how he paid off his first cop.  His Spanish isn't good enough so he had to call his wife and have her talk to the cop.  She negotiated and then told him how much to give.  Deirdre also dances Flamenco, she gives us the story behind flamenco. 

Then the sushi comes. The room is silent.  I know Deirdre must think we are crazy.  A whole boat of sushi that isn't cream cheese and salmon.  My friends are in awe.  There is an absolute huge gob of wasabi.  Greg remarks "That is something you never see."  I can't stop eating it.  Once we finish the sushi boat the waitress brings in a gas stove.  Next she brings in a huge bowl of udon noodles, fresh vegetables, and seafood.  It cooks.  We are all drinking Korean saki.  I love it.  It is much milder than Japanese sake.

Once dinner is finished we decide to go for ice cream. In the remise I thank my friends.  I am amazed. Mexican food and sushi in one day.  What a start to my birthday weekend.

Comments

[Rodrigo]

Feliz Cumpleaños Deby! As always a pleasure to read your blog.

[Andi]

Feliz cumpleanos bonita!!! I hope it's a special one filled with sexy portenos, lots of dulce de leche, and too much champagne. :)

By the way, have you tried the Sushi Club in Puerto Madero? Ummm, I've had some delicious meals there before.