The good things.
The beaches are stunning. I got to see good friends. My skin looks great, smoothed out by the intense humidity.
The bad things.
The food is just the blandest, most uninteresting thing you can imagine. At a parrillada all I can eat is peppers or potatoes, but then the potatoes are covered in butter. Warm butter. Yuk. I tried a fancy restaurant but I all got was some fish and rice with just about everything that they could find in the kitchen thrown on top of it. Not subtle. Not even tasty. So far I have survived mostly on pasta (which, for some reason, they never strain properly so it's always watery) and melted cheese in the form of pizza or provolone. I just can't stand it any longer. Tonight, my birthday, I'll eat some frozen corn. Yummy. M.A. is practically a zombie for the second day in a row from some form of severe stomach bug, or at least that's what I hope. If it's not a bug then he is dying. My own stomach is not doing too good either and the fact of achieving illness through no pleasure whatsoever really pisses me off. In any case if he's this sick tomorrow again we are definitely going to the doctor.
Another very unnerving local habit: real bad customer service.
Yesterday we made a reservation for a table for 7 at a restaurant at the beach. Got there and the place was in total darkness. One of us got out of the car, pushed the door to the restaurant, which was open, and the alarm went on. Nobody came out. Given that the reservation was made in person a couple of hours before we showed up and that the door was not locked, I thought maybe everybody had been killed inside. If they were the news has not reported about it so far. Example number 2, I decided to get a massage for my birthday. The masseur was supposed to show up at 6.30/7.00 PM. I did not check what time it was when he actually came, but it was later than 8.30 PM. I strongly believe a massage is meant to relax you and by then all I wanted was to slowly strangle him with my bare hands. So forget it.
Now I am in this gorgeous house, wondering when to start thawing the corn. Michael is off to a dinner. M.A. is in bed writhing in pain and trying to sleep. I might just fix myself a strong vodka with something and drink it to my health. Happy birthday!
0 comments:
Post a Comment