Viva el tango!

Okay, so I didn't go see tango the other night. Kati reminded me it was Halloween, which obviously meant that I had to revise my plans. Measures needed to be taken. In spite of certain shameful occurences that took place on Halloween last year, I still love it. Unfortunately Buenos Aires does not do Halloween, so I had to improvise. I bought a lot of candy and searched endlessly through Kati's cable channels for something scary to watch. There were plenty of offerings, but they were all dubbed in Spanish, which really wouldn't do. Finally we found a channel that was showing Jeepers Creepers 2--Not Jeepers Creepers 1, mind you, but the SEQUEL to the classic--and I was in ecstasy. Of course, Kati had to follow me to the bathroom for the rest of the night and stand there while I made sure the weird crowman was not behind the curtain or worse, in the toilet, and then wait while I (not going to paint a word picture for you here) before I dismissed her, but it was worth it somehow. It was a good night.

Yesterday I had to go to the Paraguayan consulate to secure my visa for my much anticipated trip to Paraguay, which I have been told by my Paraguayan host has absolutely nothing to see. I waited in line for a long time, trying not to look at all the mothers breastfeeding their children (seriously, there must have been at least four of them). Finally I filled out the application and gave it to the lady, along with my passport (!), and was told to come back in 24 hours. She might have said something else, but I was too embarrassed to tell her I didn't understand, so I just nodded. Hopefully it wasn't something, like, important. And hopefully I'll get my passport, like, back. Otherwise I will have to make a new life for myself here. A life in which I will most likely be gay, because it's all I know.

Anyway, I did go see Tango last night. I called this bar, and they said there was a show at nine, so naturally I show up at a quarter to, and the place is completely empty. Lights are on, a lone bartender is standing behind the bar, and there is no sign of a show. Hmmmm. I forced myself to walk up and own the street (I couldn't go around the block lest the bar be out of sight and hordes of people suddenly descend on it and get better seats than me) until five to nine. Still nobody. So I went in and asked if there was a show, and was told yes, there was, and yes, it started at nine. As in three minutes from now. The people will arrive at nine, the bartender says. Okay. This is unusual. I sat own and ordered a glass of wine, and pulled out my miniature little notebook so I could work on some writing in the manner of expat writers everywhere. At 9:30, a few people came in, then a few more. Finally, at 10:00, the lights dimmed.

The show was great. Touristy, obviously, but really great. The music was played by this guy on an accordion and this girl on an electronic keyboard, who I kind of had a little girl crush on. She was all dressed up in this gorgeous dress, with these amazing shoes, and her hair all luxurious and curly, but she had the nerdiest little face, with thick glasses and a decent-size nose, and she played the #$%@ out of that keyboard, and I loved her. There was also a singer, a tall bald man with a voice much to big for the little bar, and I loved him too. And the dancers were this couple and they were so so good an I loved them too. I loved everyboy in the bar. I loved tango, I loved Buenos Aires, I loved my glass of wine. I even loved the taxi driver who took me home. It was also a good night.