This morning we woke up to pouring rain. Like the streets-were-rivers kind of pouring rain. It didn't let up until about 2pm. It is the first time we've seen rain in Argentina. Coincidence? I think not. We head back to The States tonight and the city is upset. It's understandable.
Mark was all "It's raining so let's go to a museum!" Good enough idea, I thought. He headed there before me and we were going to meet up. Then, what I like to think was divine intervention occurred: I got into a cab and asked the driver to go to the MALBA Museum. He had no idea where it was. Neither did I. I mean, when you get into a cab and say "Take me to the Met," the drivers know where to go. I thought it'd work the same here. Guess not.
The funniest part is I sat in the (stopped) cab for the next 10 minutes trying to figure out with the driver what I was talking about. He didn't want me to leave. Next, we brought some poor unassuming girl standing on the street into the mix. She didn't know what I was talking about, so then she goes into the store we're parked next to and asks them. She comes back and says they don't know, but then she produces this little city map-book from her bag. Can't find it in there, either. (I suppose it would've helped if I knew that MALBA stood for Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires, but whatever).
Regardless, this to me was a sign. A sign that today was not a museum day. It was, in fact, a SHOPPING DAY!
And shop I did.
I am sitting here with five bags full of stuff (presents, perhaps...?!) and now need to figure out how the hell I'm getting all of this on the plane. Speaking of, I need to go catch it...
Mark was all "It's raining so let's go to a museum!" Good enough idea, I thought. He headed there before me and we were going to meet up. Then, what I like to think was divine intervention occurred: I got into a cab and asked the driver to go to the MALBA Museum. He had no idea where it was. Neither did I. I mean, when you get into a cab and say "Take me to the Met," the drivers know where to go. I thought it'd work the same here. Guess not.
The funniest part is I sat in the (stopped) cab for the next 10 minutes trying to figure out with the driver what I was talking about. He didn't want me to leave. Next, we brought some poor unassuming girl standing on the street into the mix. She didn't know what I was talking about, so then she goes into the store we're parked next to and asks them. She comes back and says they don't know, but then she produces this little city map-book from her bag. Can't find it in there, either. (I suppose it would've helped if I knew that MALBA stood for Museo de Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires, but whatever).
Regardless, this to me was a sign. A sign that today was not a museum day. It was, in fact, a SHOPPING DAY!
And shop I did.
I am sitting here with five bags full of stuff (presents, perhaps...?!) and now need to figure out how the hell I'm getting all of this on the plane. Speaking of, I need to go catch it...
ME me me me me me me me me me.
Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine.
I post comment.
I get presents.
So it is written.
So it is done.