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Evita: Still stuck in my head

November 15th, 2009 Leave a comment Go to comments

For better or worse,

A few weeks back I listened a time or two to the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical “Evita”, starring Madonna.  This was intended as an admittedly feeble stab at acquainting myself with some Argentinian historical context, and a handful of songs from it even now play automatically in my head when I walk the bustling streets of Buenos Aires.

I started taking regular yoga classes at the studio of a laid back yet kinda intense/passionate instructor name Marcos.  He’s gray and there’s something cool about hearing yoga orders given to you in Spanish.  It’s has this soothing, almost musical tempo with all those flowing syllables, and the massive use of the phrase “vamanos chicos*” plays pretty well.  It would be “chicas” if I weren’t there: for the most part it’s just me and the [much older than I] ladies.  I like to think that Marcos was a serious mack daddy back in his day, and that this is what that looks like in retirement.  Also, his facial hair is rad.

While on one of the sunny hills around the Ricoletta market last weekend I discovered the joys of mate (and, due to the limitations of text as a medium of communication, let me hasten to add that I’m referring to a local sort of tea drink, pronounced ma-tay).  It’s this nummy thing that you make by pouring hot water into a hollowed-out gourd packed with the mate (which comes as sort of a twiggy puree), and that you drink from a specialized metal straw that filters all the shmokus from coming up.

They say that the caffeine (or caffeine-esqe) kick that it gives you is a mellow high, though I only came to understand what that meant at about 5:00am that night/next morning, when I noticed that I was still remarkably clear headed and energized, and put finally 2 and 2 together regarding my mate consumption some 13 hours earlier (the inquiry began with something along the lines of “Hey, why AM I still awake?  And how come web programming is still fun and efficient at this hour?”).

Yep, I think there may be something about that drink that qualifies as magical… the experience came with none of the usual feelings of punchiness/jitters that caffeine gives to my non-existent tolerance!  Sweet!  Today I bought my own magic gourd and straw from among the myriad artisan options at the market.  It’s the closest feeling thing to drug paraphernalia as I’ve ever purchased.

About two hours ago my mom hopped on a plane to come here and visit me.  My place is clean and I have just flossed.  I am ready for my first visitor.


* More or less translates to: “Let’s go, little ones”

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