I had brunch at Artemisia Cocina Natural this morning. I can’t remember what I ordered but I do remember that it was small. I was like, “Is this it?” $33 ARS later I guess it was. Some of the reviews I read called it a vegetarian restaurant, but when salmon is served on the menu, you’ve lost the plot.
After waiting patiently for twenty minutes the waiter came to the table with the menu and asked what I wanted. Considering that I can’t read Spanish I asked that he allow me a few more minutes to decide. French Toast does not come with maple syrup; that’s a Canadian thing I was told. Ramiro was given the unenviable task of reading the menu to me and was upset because I didn’t understand the Spanish word for pepper.
This is the kind of thing that makes me want to go back to Canada. I will fully admit that I do not understand Spanish and that I am learning slowly, but I still think I’m doing a pretty good job. Argentines can be rude and downright impatient and when I speak Spanish they laugh at my pronounciation. I guess I have to let it roll off my back and not take it so personally, but I’m sensitive, and I require encouragement, not judgment. I can’t learn if the expectation is that I be fluent already.
To be honest I feel better when I dine alone because I won’t be criticized by or disappoint an Argentine. I can be free to make my own mistakes and embarrass myself without a witness who will point and laugh at me. I hope I don’t treat people like this when they’re trying to learn English. I think I’m always respectful but perhaps this treatment I receive is karma and I have to accept that.
Most Argentines speak more than one language and they can’t understand why I can’t. But they’ve been learning English since they were 6-years-old and their jobs require that they be bilingual because a lot of their business is in the U.S. Canadians are not required to speak another language as much, unless they plan to live in Quebec.
On another, almost similar topic, I have yet to go to a restaurant in Buenos Aires that has received my order correctly, even with an interpreter. I always get what I didn’t order. It’s too much of a hassle to put up a fuss so I let it go, every time.
Restaurants in Buenos Aires are… different. The waiters do not care about you. You have to hunt them down if you want to order and to ask for your check. When you arrive and find your seat they will literally just sit at the counter and look at you until you ask them to tend to you. I’m assuming they don’t want to interfere with your enjoyment of staring at the ceiling. This is muy different from back home where you can’t get the waiters to leave you the fuck alone.
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I possess great compassion and seek to be of service to others. 
