This flamboyant young man is hilarious! Enjoy.
Archive for September 15th, 2011
Apparently a pedestrian lifted the barriers on the road and the bus driver jumped the tracks without knowing that a train was approaching. It is quite the tragedy.
My roommate while I am living in Argentina is Buenos Aires porteño, Ramiro. Because Argentines work crazy hours he’s rather elusive, save for evenings and weekends. He escorts me to the supermercado and acts as my interpreter.
Today he is 33. In the week that I have been in Buenos Aires Ramiro has often explained to me that “We don’t do that here.” Usually he is incorrect. Here, according to Ramiro, are a few examples of what Argentines don’t do:
- Sell blueberries
- Sell strawberries
- Sell blackberries
- Sell raspberries
- Sell asparagus
- Sell tofu (in his defence I have yet to find tofu, but I’m sure he’s wrong about this one too). In fact when I asked him where the tofu was in the supermercado he looked at me like I was speaking Vulcan. “Do you mean meat?” he asked.
- Sell moisturizer
- Eat cereal
- Drink coffee with milk (Ummm… “café con leche!”)
- Pay taxes (okay this one is a joke) but I have a feeling he’ll say Argentines don’t do this either.
- In fact anything I have suggested that I need or like he responds with, “We don’t that here.” So I will save you an exhaustive list, because trust me, it is exhaustive!
Yesterday Ramiro completed his English-speaking exam for work and he was elevated from low-intermediate to intermediate! Quite the accomplishment. Sure he can’t get his pronouns right (often referring to a “he” as a “she” or a “her” as an “him”) or conditionals correct (often confusing “should” “would”, “if” or “when”) but he can speak English better than I can speak Spanish.
We often have lengthy conversations about his Kabbalah classes that frequently result in an argument and my fear that he will kick me out of his apartment. I can be a bit of a skeptic and perhaps every now and again my questions can appear rude and disrespectful. I am attempting to be more open minded.
Anyway, happy birthday Ramiro — here’s to many more.
By the way, I will most definitely be drunk by the time you get home because I will have been celebrating the fact that you survived another year in Buenos Aires. You porteños deserve medals! For this, I apologize in advance.