Posts Tagged ‘Rose’

You’ll get fat eating like that.

Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010

One of my favorite things about non-U.S. countries is their complete frankness with weight-related issues, their total lack of tact in telling you “you’ve gotten pudgy” and their judgment of your excessive wine drinking. Or my excessive wine drinking… Who’s counting?

One of the first weeks that I was in Argentina, my roommate Rose (of these and many other stories) and I went to a plaza in Belgrano, sat at a wine restaurant and proceeded to get debauch. We ordered a bottle of Malbec and drank the whole thing. It was only a couple of weeks after we met and, even though from the very first instant we knew we were sisters from another mister, we still had to get past the technicalities and “get to know each other.”

While exchanging many stories and much giggling, we decided to go into the cellar and scope out another bottle of wine. We chose one, thought hey, let’s buy another to take home and drink at some other point in the future, and returned to our table. Uncork went the second bottle, glug glug it went down our throats and before we knew it, we were out of wine. Naturally it was time to open the third bottle that we had purchased for some point in the future that was not to be that night. So we asked our waitress to bring us a corkscrew and ordered a profiterole because why would we drink wine and not simultaneously eat a pastry stuffed with ice cream and chocolate? Exactly.

The waitress looked us up and down, blinked and goes “you know, you’ll get fat eating like that.” We thought it was hilarious. “Did she really just say that? We’ll get fat?” Yes, she did. See, in Argentina people tip like 2 pesos no matter the occasion, so it’s not like that woman was hoping to wrangle some tips. And they’ve learned, over many generations I suspect, that just because Malbec is incredible it does not mean one should indulge in three bottles at a time.

And ultimately, the lady was right. We *did* get fat eating like that. Argentina makes this incredible little thing called an empanada, and it’s really delicious and deep fried and full of cheese, and if you eat a lot of those you *will* get fat. Also if you go to Bariloche and eat nothing but chocolate for a week, you’ll get fat then too. And if you drink copious amounts of vino along with those two other things. And many many tequila shots. Best six months of my life and totally worth eating and drinking like that and then getting fat, like the wise lady warned me.

So, really, after many miles on a treadmill to work off the circa-2005 post-LatAm gut, I’m totally grateful for our waitress’s attempt to warn us, not scold us, of the common sense, simple logic fact that that profiterole and three bottles of wine were the stepping stones to our journey through South America. Our journey of getting fat.

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Have a nice sleep.

Wednesday, April 8th, 2009

I have so much to write about Rhode Island (I know you’ve been hanging at the edge of your seat), I don’t even know where to start. I’ve been stewing and ruminating and billions of thoughts have been swimming around my head, threatening to swallow me whole, but I’m afraid I’ll word vomit all over the keyboard if I start unleashing them. So I’ll sit on it for a while longer and recount a story that made me laugh this weekend.

I had the opportunity to visit a magical place called the Ocean Mist in Matunuck. It’s a joyful dive where, apparently, Rose went on an epic bender (whiskey variety) before heading to Salamanca in the summer of 2006. That same summer she came to Greece with me and my friend Heather. She was still on the bender (sangria variety) at the time she met up with us.

Heather and I had been spending a pretty chill two weeks eating feta, relaxing on the beach and hanging out in the village. We went out at night but not hard. We sat at cafes for hours, something along those lines. As soon as Rose arrived the story rapidly changed. We quickly embarked on an island hopping trip and began to participate in copious amounts of drinking.

Us, glowing and tan, before we got drunk

Us, glowing and tan, before we got drunk

Our pinnacle moment in joining forces to be complete drunks together was in Perissa, Santorini. We had already spent a day or two roaming the island, checking out the sunsets from Fira and appreciating the overwhelming beauty all around us. Then one afternoon, after laying in the sun and swimming a sufficient amount of hours, we said fuck it and decided to go drink some wine. I’m sure we ordered a Greek salad and some tiny fried fishes (my favorite thing in life) and we started taking down Retsina. We started with a half liter. Heather and I were still the “sensible” ones and figured it would be enough. We went through that quickly and, when we went to order more, Rose insisted we should get a liter. Between fits of hysterical laughter we demolished that one too and ordered yet another liter for good measure. Our waiter looked at us and said “goodnight, have a nice nap.” He had no idea how great that nap would be. To put it in perspective, just in case/por las dudas, 2.5 liters of wine is more than a bottle’s worth of wine per young lady in 100 degree weather at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. Nice nap was an understatement, if I’ve ever heard one.

We passed out for a good 4 hours in our hotel room and, when we woke up, Rose pondered aloud what we’d be doing that night. Perissa is a pretty hoppin’ place that’s popular among the equally drunk Brits so we were bound to find something fun to do. Since we were broke, we decided pre-gaming would be a sound option. We went to the kiosk around the corner and bought the only booze we could find… Cutty Sark and Bacardi pints. Yum. It’s funny the things you’ll drink (and I continue to drink) when you’re young…

We proceeded to get trashed in the hotel room while listening to dance jams on an ipod – see photo – and then went out to a beach party. Here’s where we really took off. Rose found some 50 year-old Spanish man who talked her up and bought her tequila shots all night. Heather found a pack of stray dogs on the beach and kept feeding them beggin strips out of her pocket (she was w/ dog snacks at all times in case she encountered strays) which led to a puzzled Greek man saying “you are queen of the dogs – that’s what you are. Queen of the dogs.” I, in the meantime, found some dudes from Barcelona to chat up. One of them was one of the hottest guys I’ve seen through booze goggles in my life. His name was Javier aka Javi. I thought it would be really clever to keep using the verb joder – in my own Argentine Spanish it means joke around while in Spain it means “to fuck.” My sublte innuendos must have gotten through because we later made out all over the beach chairs (and it was awesome!). Enter my obsession with Spain and Spaniards.

At the end of the night/beginning of the day, Heather, Rose and I reconvened and decided to walk home (stumbling). We were going through an alley where there were some young men hanging out. I became convinced they were going to try to jump us which is why when one of them started walking toward us carrying a small towel (which I was positive was soaked in ether) and said “how’s it going ladies” I replied “you stay the fuck away from us!” Aw, delightful.

Then we went to our room and one by one faceplanted onto our pillows only to sleep well into the next day. The end.

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Clam chowder

Friday, April 3rd, 2009

I arrived in Providence, Rhode Island yesterday. My flight left SFO on Wednesday night at 10:30pm. I arrived at the airport at 10pm, like I usually do, because I’d rather get there, walk through security and straight on to the plane without waiting. Usually I’ve already checked in so this works. But I flew US Airways, which is the most bootleg establishment on the planet. I didn’t even know who was operating my flight. I tried to check in at the US Airways counter but they told me to go to United, two terminals and a 15 minute walk away, so I got there too late to check in. I wanted to throw a WTF fit but I’m no donkey – I knew it was my own fault.

I’ll give my pleasant demeanor credit for getting me to a flight to O’Hare at 11:15pm. United was quite accommodating despite my blunder. I slept the whole way through our 5am landing in the windy city. Then I watched the sun come up from behind the Sears Tower. I was sitting at a gate that faced east and could see the entire skyline. The Hancock Tower and everything. I used to fly into O’Hare all the time and that was home. Damn, I miss Chicago sometimes! I loved walking around the lakefront, especially by Grant Park where all those old stone buildings stand facing the wind. Later when the Providence leg of my flight took off, I got a view of Lake Michigan and the city sprawling from its shores. Boy, my heart panged… next vacay; I think I’m overdue for a visit anyway.

I landed in a misty, foggy Rhode Island two hours later. I should throw some context around this visit as it’s not random. My kindred spirit, Rose, lives here. She is my twin that I feel from the opposite coast. There is a tugging of my heart strings when I’m not around her. We are the same person living in two different bodies, separated by this continent. That’s the kind of friend she is. And I’ve heard about Rhody since I met her in Argentina (where she was my roommate) four years ago. I’ve always known that I would arrive here and immediately fall in love with this place. Yes, I was correct.

New England… damn! It’s just as John Irving painted it for me. Hazy woods and beautiful old houses with colonial character. Chowder and clam shacks galore. Huge mansions, or beach “cottages” as they’re called with rolling white lawns that touch right on the Atlantic Ocean. Characters with thick accents and salty old fishermen everywhere. So romantical and beautiful and magical. Rhode Island is the shit. And we’ve only taken one day’s worth of driving tour in the southern part of the (albeit tiny) State. Today there will be some more touring of lighthouses and points of interest in Rose’s life, followed by some dancing and some possibly sailing, possibly Nantucket (where they do produce juices), possibly Martha’s Vineyard – who knows, who knows what we’ll have time for – later this weekend.

I am thrilled and stoked and my soul is receiving a much needed massage from Rose’s presence. I am off to eat some chowder now, bye!

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