12/3/08
My early mornings at the office have afforded me some interesting sights. Today, as I sat at my computer, engrossed in my attempts to organize some financial and managerial matters, I heard what appeared to be Madonna being blasted over a loud speaker. You can imagine my surprise, as it was only about 8:30 in the morning, and I had gotten the impression that Madonna was more along the lines of mid-afternoon to early evening singer here in BA. Upon further review, I was able to locate the point of demarcation for said “Like a Virgen” lyrics, and it appeared that through a line of trees some 200 yards away, there was an undulating throng of small people, perhaps children. While my view was partially obscured by the trees, I could make out the occasional little being running this way or that, in what looked like a giant game of tag, or more precisely, duck-duck-GOOSE! I say that only because the halflings followed the same concentric circle in their haphazard all or nothing trip around the playground, but as I was unable to see what lied within this imagined circle, thanks to our friend mother nature, I will never fully no. As of now, I assume that I witnessed recreational time at a prison for incredibly short people, however, were new information to come to light, the indicated otherwise, I will consider passing this along. Ohh, I also heard Bon Jovi and Guns and Roses, which now that I think about it, might be a little advanced for the sensibilities of small children, only further strengthening my dwarf-prison theory.
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They say that if you drop a penny of the top of the empire state building, it would be able to kill someone below. I disagree. However, if killing someone is your aim, a roll of pennies should do the job.
When all the emotions get together for reunions, I envision doubt as being fear’s ugly little sister. The one who never has a date and lives with a lot of cats.
12/5/08
As I get to spend a large part of my working day outside of the office, and a good part on construction sites, I thought it who to ingratiate myself with the fine Argentinean gentlemen that work there. Ramon, the foreman, is a rarity, so far as i can tell here. He is the only person I have met to date that both delivers on or under budget and on time. In a country where “soon” can mean anything from 4 hours to 3 days and “around the corner” represents anything from within 10 blocks to the border of Paraguay, these are sought after qualities.
My typical visit to his site consists of 50% work related discussion, and the other half of the time I’m getting brought up to speed on anything of interest that has happened within his laboring family and Argentina as a whole. We’ve at one point or another, touched upon topics including, but not limited too: why fransisco wasn’t in yesterday, and today he is wearing gauze around his head; the neurosis of argentine women; and that which keeps Argentina from rising to the level of a world power, specifically Argentinians.
Today, I showed up to find that they would be cooking an asado, not unlike the one I previously wrote about, just less gay. I was honored to be invited to partake, as I was to learn later that this is not an invitation extended to many, and went about my day content with the knowledge that I would be eating free meat later on in the afternoon. I returned at the pre- specified time of arrival, only to find that I had childishly not incorporated the standard 1 hour extra it takes to do anything and everything here, so as such I had to cool my jets a little before eating. But eat I did.
Lunch was served on a piece of plywood, 7 feet long by 2 feet wide, supported by cinder blocks of various shapes and sizes. Plates were not to be seen, and the slabs of meet, chicken, and sausages were cut on the table. One was required to commandeer their own seating accommodation, and I had the god fortune of being offered what I believe was to shortly become part of the deck. There were no glasses to speak of, everyone drinking from the same bottles of coke, fanta, and red wine, depending on their preference. Between the 8 of us, there was 3 knives and one fork, which were passed around as needed. You cut a piece of meat, to your desired specifications, wrapped it up in a piece of bread, and went about eating it. I tended to cut pieces that were a little too large, no doubt a result of my inexperience and the relative unavailability of the lone fork. It was simple and it was delicious.
They say here that the asado of the work place is the best there is, on account of the pride they take in their cooking and them using real wood to grill. While I still have little experience in the Argentinean art of the barbecue, I am unable to find fault in their conviction.
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I often wonder what keeps pets from getting together and attempting to overthrow their evolutionary masters. Probably a lack of centralized leadership. If you see what looks like two dogs plotting, be wary.
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