Life In Buenos Aires:Sundays Are For Fun
Written by
Deby Novitz
I love my Sundays in Argentina. They are much different than the Sundays I had when I lived in the USA. When I lived in California, I wanted to be shut away from the world. Sunday was the day when I could be alone. No noise. No traffic. No clients. I would be secluded in my big house with all my things. I could do house projects. I would rarely leave unless it was to go to Home Depot or maybe the Ace Hardware. If I was in a relationship, then we would be secluded together. What a weird attitude! I cannot believe that I used to live such a bizarre existence.
Here I am exactly the opposite. My Sundays are all about being with my friends and at times with their families. Sometimes my Sundays are planned, but often times not. Argentines can be very spontaneous. It is what I love about living here. I am never alone. There is always someone who wants to do something.
My Sundays always start with Maximiliana, my demonic puppy. She is about a year old. She was given to me by my dog walker Juan Carlos. He found her abandoned under a bridge. My dog that I had come to Buenos Aires with had died. She was 13. I was sure I did not want another dog. But here we are. The demonic puppy from hell and me. Actually she is much better now. She has moved up from abandoned street dog to “Palermo’s most spoiled puppy.” I suppose knowing you don’t have to scratch gum off the sidewalk to eat makes a difference.
We spend a couple hours at the dog park on Malabia and Costa Rica. It is great for both of us. Maxi has her friends. She is partial to the beagle in the pink collar and the 8 month old doggo. Of course any dog she can have chase her around the plaza is game for friendship. I have the other doggy “mothers” to talk to. Once Maxi is sufficiently worn out we go home.
Her afternoon (unless I have to give her bath which is another adventure altogether)consists of a snack and a nap. Just like a 3 year old. My afternoon is just going to start. I have a friend coming over to bring the little demon treats from Costco and then we are going to lunch.
My friend comes just after I get home and wakes Maxi up. She is grumpy until she realizes he has “cookies”. Totally cool and new cookies. He becomes her new best friend. We give her a large biscuit and she goes back into her crate. We take off.
I am showing my friend Palermo on our way to the restaurant. I am not cutting through either of the plazas as I know they will be a zoo. My friend is here for tango and he is talking about it non-stop. I am used to it. I dance and teach tango, and I perform. My tango life is different than the tourists who come here. They are looking for something different. So I just listen. He is mesmerized by the whole scene.
We reach the Lebanese restaurant that I love. I discovered it when I first moved here. I was so sick of Argentine food – pasta, pizza, empanadas. Ethnic food is not exactly abundant or very good here. A friend and I found this restaurant and ate here 3 times in a week and then twice a week for 2 months. I know the whole family.
After we find a table, I get up to go greet the mom. I kiss her and ask her how she is doing. Her grandson is crying. I ask him what is wrong. Grandma says he is an “attorante.” (someone lazy who doesn’t want to work) I kiss the daughter, the son-in-law, and the brother. This is Buenos Aires, we kiss a lot here.
We eat a lovely lunch. I ask for a hot sauce they do not have on the menu and do not tell many people about. They also put more spices in my food. They make it “estilo liban” for me. I could eat their hummus all day long with tabbouli.
After lunch we walk back towards my apartment. I tell my friend I want to check out a feria they are having near the dog park. When they were testing the sound system it drove Maxi nearly psycho. It is a “Feria de los Judios” (A Jewish street fair) for the new year. Too many people. We push through and we check things out.
We decide to have a coffee near my house. My friend is still yakking about tango. I remember when I was that way. Funny, how things change. I love my tango, maybe even more so now. But in a much different way. It is getting cold. We finish our cortados and go back to my apartment. It is time for La Demonia to go out.
My friend says he will walk her with me and then take off. He wants to go dance tonight. Maxi is thrilled to be with the bearer of the cookies. After a short walk we say goodbye. It is still early, only 7:00 pm. As we head into the building my cell rings. It is my friend Miguel, I answer and he says “Que tal nena, que haces?”
I moved to Buenos Aires in 2004 from California. I have a small bed & breakfast for tango dancers, I write, do translations, teach English, and of course dance tango. You can find more about my life in Buenos Aires on my blog TangoSpam:LaVida Con Deby
Tags: Argentina, Buenos Aires, expats, Making Friends, Sunday afternoons