Internet blues

I've only got a few minutes today, but I wanted to thank everyone who has dropped by and left comments over the past week or so-- It looks like I'm posting everyday, but I'm not!!

I set up a few postings to post automatically late last week...and haven't been able to log on reliably since!! I keep getting glimpses of the blog-- and-- not inconsequentially, your sweet, sweet comments, but haven't been able to stay on for more than five minutes to reply to anyone. (>.<)

We got some assistance today, and our techie problems are *hopefully* ironed out, so I'll be back in full force later in the week.

Besos to everyone... You'll be hearing from me...

¡Mama's got new dancing shoes!

So, along with being 6" taller and 30 pounds heavier than 90% of your average Porteñas, your intrepid reporter strains the outer reaches of one of the major blood sports here in BsAs: designer shoes. Not only do I wear a European 39-40 (US 8-81/2), but I am blessed with patas de pato--what I call "duck feet"-- width C-D. It makes shoe shopping a bit of a challenge.

My 5' 8" frame is freakishly large here (I went into a US-based name-brand store you would have heard of here, and I asked to try something on. The SA asked delicately, "Are you a size...6?" When I said yes, she made a frowny-face, shook her head, and looked sad for me.)

Even worse, you're lucky to find nursing shoes in size 40 here-- now I know what my lovely friends with size 9+ feet experience back at home. I am Yeti-Girl here-- it's a little bruising on the ego.

So imagine my delight when Bazr and I stumbled upon this little artisanal tango specialty shoe shop:

And they had all kinds of tango shoes...in all kinds of sizes...

I had dozens of handmade shoes to choose from, all ancho-- wide, which meant I could fit into a 39, which is really a better true fit.

I cannot believe what a cliché these shoes are!! But, ¡Bailmos-- lista!

And if you ever had any doubt that tango is a serious sport here, the shoes come with their own travel bag...

...that makes like it's own little backpack. You can wear your sneaks to the milanga, then slip into your tango heels to dance the night away...

Barrio Chino

Sunday night will be the social event of the season: we're having a dinner party for some of the young lovelies we've met here, along with our friend, Jay, visiting from San Francisco.

Porteños, for all their sophistication and while sharing the continent with some of the spiciest, most flavorful food traditions, have the palates of newborn babes. Emilio, an Argentine who will be dining with us on Sunday, has been known to cry if there's too much black pepper on his food.

So, of course, I'm cooking Mexican!! But good luck trying to find authentic ingredients here. Sheesh!

I looked everywhere to piece together the ingredients. Here and there, you can get Ortega's canned stuff-- if you can stand the fact that they use too much salt and not enough spice. (>.<)

But I cook Mexi-fresh, and after scouring every little tienda in the downtown in a fruitless search to find chipotle powder and fresh jalapeños, I realized trying to find anything with even a mini-kick was hopeless.

My only hope was to head to BsAs's tee-neh, tah-neh Chinatown. All two blocks of it-- whoo-hoo!

If you were going to solve for fresh Jalapeños as a logic problem, the solution would look like this:

Buenos Aires--> Chinatown --> Japanese Supermarket= Best Mexican Produce

So go figure.

~*~

Fun to walk through the aisles working at a double disadvantage-- not know what stuff was in Spanish and Chinese.

And then when you could read the English, it was often terrifying:

How about a gallon of "Champion Vegetable Barbecue Sauce"-- packaged in a paint can!

(I recognize it's sophomoric to snark at weird Chinenglish, but I just can't help myself...)

Right place, right time

With the Midwest buried...

Northern Australia blowing....
and the Middle East burning...
...I wake up every morning and kiss the ground to be here.

I found the photo of the Cairo street here.