Tap-Water, Video and Meringue

Last Friday we celebrated C.T.’s B-day.
Our group is compound by three couples with very different backgrounds.

My husband who’s from Dominican Republic, C.T.’s husband who’s from Germany, and R.B.’s husband who’s from Switzerland. Me and my girlfriends are the only ones 100% pure Argentineans in the lot.

Every time we get together, I find these new and amazing facts about their lives that surprise me: like when I came across the fact that R.B.’s husband might (or might not) has been a Swiss porn start; his acting career reduced to only one line on the big screen: Aufmerksamkeit (Attention!).

One can only imagine the circumstances when this line was delivered.

Or this other time, when C.T.’s husband was found to have a weakness for Kahlua with berry juice: some story about it being an aphrodisiac for one of his early life girlfriends.
As he explained, the drink transformed the so called girl into this ‘experimental’ person.
With that, I came to the conclusion that: first, he’s really old (thirty five years versus our average twenty eight years calls for a lot more experience; experience equals age), second, he wants to see you wasted (he offers alcoholic drinks like candy; Germans have a lot of resistance to alcohol) and third, when being in a ‘happy’ state, he coughs in your face.

I, on the other hand, get stimulated with diet coke and tap-water.

-          Bring on the hard stuff!! – I said, and the waiter kept them coming.

Let me tell you, after seeing me laugh my ass off, everybody wanted to try tap-water straight up.
That’s to show you that you don’t need to get wasted in order to act insane.

My husband, on the other hand, behaves himself as the Prince he is: elbowing away under the table to every misplaced comment I did under my tap-water stupor, and always complaining about the music of choice by the deaf DJ (mostly dreadful Meringue).

R.B. always sits two miles away from her husband on the table, mostly to talk to him (screaming is more like it) over a sea of people and share dishes over everybody else’s dinner. She never heard about discretion and prudence.

C.B. is pregnant so, she finally has a real excuse not to drink (“I’m the designated driver” was getting old so she decided to get pregnant instead), and of course, we pamper her constantly when we’re together.

The night ended at 10:30 pm: to show that we’re crazy-nighters, party-goers, heavy-drinkers and most importantly, getting old.

www.apizz.com

Winter love, Winter food and Winter city

Marriage, like Lentils and living in a big city, was something I had never thought I would get used to.

I change my mind about New York when I saw the city from the top of the Rockefeller Center, the New Year’s Eve when my husband (by then Fiancée) proposed to me... some three years ago.

From then on, I was a devoted fan of this amazing metropolis and all it had to offer.

Even so, I miss my Caribbean weather… more now that we’re in winter; but New York has grown on me... whatever that means.

Regarding marriage… it took being in love with my husband to make me change my mind about that one.

I was always this independent spirit, never ready to be ‘dominated’ by the male inhabitants of the world, but now, I found it exciting: two people, together, as one.

They say you get used to your wedding ring, but I hope that’s not true.

Since the day I changed from Miss to Mrs., it’s a proud trophy that I carry with me everyday – except when I visit my family in Argentina… security is not one of this country’s major assets -.

I’m where I’m supposed to be. 

I’m happy, I’m content. I’m fulfilled.

As lentils go… I’m still waiting.

Innovation… anyone?

This was the header of the newspaper this morning… I read it walking my way to the elevator on our neighbour’s front door (my only true ‘news reading’ is a 3 seconds stop to know if the world is coming to an end… or not… mostly not).
Bearing in mind the fact that I consider myself a most boring person, with a square type personality, set to become an hermit before turning fifty, reading my books and drinking coffee.. The newspaper’s header touch my self-esteem and I decided to write a bit about true innovation… the one that happens every day, even though it doesn’t get notice by the whole population of the world, mainly my husband, my dog and me.
Cooking… innovative cuisine is something that you’ve to experiment by default when moving to a new country were ‘calabaza’ is “butternut squash” or “pumpkin”… or ‘semillas de cajuil’ is “cashews… or ‘tomillo’ is “thyme”… just by going to the grocery store you get confuse by all the different names and even though you have your grandma’s recipe with you to get everything for that chicken casserole, parsley gets confused with basil, and so on… at the end, you have what it looks like a chicken casserole but smells like an Indian dish… all spiced up and smelling strong.
Drinking… innovative drinking comes with the territory when living abroad. One always has to try new brands, flavours, drinks. I’m a weak drinker, so other than a different juice flavour, I don’t try new stuffs, however, my husband and I made a trip to the vineyards and came back addicted to ‘wine-a-rita’… so I have to consider that as an innovation in my life.
Dressing… innovative dress codes are a given when you live in one of the Fashion capitals of the world… I would have never consider to use leggings before (my big butt and all), but here, leggings are a fashion statement that improves your appearance while making you look sleek and cool.
Pet Care… yes, as you know, I have a dog and he’s also been innovating on his diet (orange treats that taste like pork, or green treats that make your mouth smell like grass) and on his care routine… with special “play days” with his mates from the vet’s office or grooming sessions to improve his looks.
Technology… the most important innovation of this generation.
Since I’ve moved to NY I’ve acquired a razor for sweaters, a nail trimmer for dogs, a ultra light, ultra thin, ultra fast hair dryer, an iPad (for my hubby), 4 iPhones (we change them every year) and an egg cooker that can do amazing omelettes, eggs Benedict and poached eggs in less than 3 minutes.
So… to the New York Times editor that choose that header to come out on the Wednesday edition… please revise your choices for a selling front cover and try to asses more important matters, like traffic jams on the Long Island Express way to improve my driving time to work, or the subway on the 2nd avenue, so my husband doesn’t have to ride the subway like in a sardines can every afternoon, or even grocery prices, so I don’t have to travel 40 miles to do my grocery shopping in ShopRite at a reasonable price.

Innovation… everyone? Duh!

All foreigners get together in NYC

Being a foreigner puts you in the situation were you’re introduced to people from your own country or people that speak Spanish (as this was the rarest thing to happen in a country where the majority of immigrants are from Latin America) and most importantly, people that shares your line of business or have the same interests as you.


It’s a chain of events that starts with new friends and continues as new individuals come to live in the New York… it’s a circle that never stops nor ends, where you’re being introduce to a bunch of new persons that might, or might not, be appealing as possible acquaintances to you.

All of us have one thing in common though: we’re not from the US.

Since I’ve traveled and lived abroad the majority of my life, I started to become picky (even demanding) when meeting new connections. I prefer to have a small group of friends, rather than a vast gathering of “I just know you a bit” type of people; so I’m popular for my lacking in warmth and my over critical personality when I’m first meeting someone.

For me, they have to pass a test… they don’t have to do anything other than be themselves, and if I don’t find that “click”, then I move on to the next poor bastard that’s in line to meet a Latino girl, whit a great character but a bad temper (when provoked), who defends her friends and always has time for a meet-and-coffee type of gathering.

Life as gone easy on me when introducing me to these new friends… so far, no freaky individual as come in my path, nor have I had the need to relegate anyone. I can remember only one time when I met a girl and we talked for one hour ; enough time for me to do a “one-day-long list” of all the things I hated about her; from her nails, to the way she expressed herself - with a potato stuck into her mouth - down into the way she looked down at you from the point of her noose, as if her superiority was visible for everybody (except me, it seems).

Needless to say that I never (ever) got together with her again… thank god for that!

I hate stuck-ups.

I still have friends… all of them pretty worthy in their own way:

I have RB, who loves astrology and can know “who you are?” just by learning the day you were born; or CT who’s always trying to soothe everybody around her to avoid conflicts, or LM who interrupts while you’re talking but it’s always to say something more interesting than what you were saying in the first place (I want to kill her every time she does it, but she’s such a good person, I can’t manage the strength), or PC who’s recently pregnant and continues her habit not to say bad words (now with the excuse that the baby might be hearing), or LC who even though she lives far away, manages to keep track of my life and have time to hear me bitch about my day, or WS, my ex-boss who transitioned with me when we both moved from Dominican Republic and ended up in the States… becoming better friends in the process, or my recently acquired friendship… JS, who I don’t know yet that well, but her tidiness and compulsion for order, tells me that we’re going to have so much in common!

I’m picky but I know when I’m surrounded with worthy “friend” material…

Ask the stuck-up B*%#@%: who’s your “superior” mama now?

The little wine bus

Not many of you know that while living in New York you can visit Vineyards as near as one hour away from the city.
Isn’t it wonderful?
One of those boring summer Saturdays, we decided to hop on a tour towards the northern part of the state to visit several Vineyards that, even though you can’t compare them with Argentina’s (puh-leeze) they’re worth every minute of your time!
(I can assure you that my husband is strangling me at the moment for the bold comment... this might be my last post... so long dear world).

Still here...

And who am I kidding?... most of all, I was looking forward for all that free sampling and tasting… let’s face it, wine makes me a jolly good fellow!
(And yes dear hubby, you can say “fellow” when referring to a Girl– he always check my spelling errors).

There are five steps for a proper wine tasting, or so we were taught:
See… Spin… Smell… Sip… and Spit.
Isn’t it gross?
So there I was, tasting these wonderful flavors, swirling the liquids in my mouth and then…
I would spew out everything into a recipient!!
Just like that.
And we shared it with other people!!
Puaj!
I would re-act the moment in my mind, over and over again, seeing my pouting mouth sputtering around like a crazy volcano with incredible accuracy… I’m definitely not going to repeat that experience again.
Next time, it would be lots of wine for me, yes sire!
What a nitwit… just to think that we tried almost 20 different types of wines and we threw everything away.
By 6 o’clock in the afternoon I was completely sober and aware of my tiredness.
Such a hard effort and not even a tipsy brain… bummer.
Worst of all were my toes.
I have terrible feet problems (thanks to my father’s inheritance) and when I’m standing for a long period of time, they start getting cranky and needy, just as my “mosquito-self”… the bastards!
After a whole day I wasn’t sure if it was wise to release them from the prison of my shoes; they might have revolted and run off into the Vineyard and refuse to return.
So 8 hours later, I returned home with amazing pictures, several bottles of wine, 100% sobriety and non-existent feet.
Should you decide to do the same tour, I’m going to give you the best recommendation:
Get completely and utterly wasted!!

http://www.thelittlewinebus.com/

Queens… not the crowns and scepters type

Buying Argentinean food in the Big Apple is not a difficult task, you can find it in every restaurant owned by an Argentinean guy, you can even find some in the Supermarket around the corner; however… buying cheap Argentinean food is a whole new matter (cheap being the key word in this sentence).
Me and my girlfriends have a routine, where every two or three months we go to a small Argentinean Restaurant in Queens and find all our delicatessens, made by Argentinean hands and most important: at a moderate price.
Since the winter came, with all its might and glory, we haven’t been able to visit Queens, nevertheless, this past weekend, my husband and I where too bored for words, so we decided to give it a try, sunny day and all.
It was my husband’s first time to accompany me to Queens, so he looked at me kind of weird when I hauled my empty luggage from our storage room and headed out the door… poor guy, he didn’t even know what was coming to him.
We took the subway, my husband, me and my pink empty suitcase, and started walking from the Junction Avenue Station towards the restaurant.
Needless to say that once you’ve entered Queens, you forget about where you are (New York where?), what is the main language (English who?) and most importantly, the prices!
After seeing so much “Manhattan prices”, being outside of the bubble gives you a whole new perspective regarding expenses.
El Gauchito is a nice little place just ten blocks from the station, it’s a cute spot to have some lunch, enjoy a nice dessert with lots of caramel spread and buy some international produce.
The guy at the counter already knows me, so I gave him my list of groceries, handed him my empty suitcase and seated with my husband in a small table by the window.
Let me tell you something about my husband that you probably already know: he is a gentleman.
Remember this, because I sure as hell didn’t forgot this fact when I headed out the door from my house, with my pink “empty” suitcase; and only one though in my head: I’m not going to be the one that brings it back.
After lunch we went to the counter, I paid our groceries and I simply stood there, while my dear husband (being a gentleman and all) hauled the suitcase back to the floor, pulled up the handle and headed to the door, followed by a pink suitcase, in a Latino neighborhood, soon to be hooping on the subway… with a bunch of tough, scary guys… with a suitcase (PINK) and me.
Needless to say that this was the first and only time for my husband to come to Queens with me, from now on it would be a girlfriend’s only activity.

El Gauchito:
http://maps.google.com/maps/place?rls=com.microsoft:en-us&oe=UTF-8&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=el+gauchito+queens&fb=1&gl=us&hq=el+gauchito&hnear=queens&cid=5825267050853122312

Tea time @ Serendipity with my girlfriends

Serendipity it's a Cafe/Restaurant/Tea House/Desserts Paradise where everybody must go at least one time if you're visiting the Big Apple.
Recession and this place don't get along so well; so no matter the economic condition of the country (or the world) you can always count to find Serendipity brimming with people.
It's one of those rare places that don't take reservations, so to go there we had to organize and make a plan. Have you noticed how difficult is to agree to something the easy way if you're meeting with your girlfriends? (men tend to go with the flow; but women go against it without even asking; just to rebel... I think it has to do something with our history).
First of all, we all talk at the same time so it's pretty impossible to understand what the others are saying; second, we change the subject every 2 minutes so we're completely incoherent; third we gesticulate a lot so you get dizzy; then everybody else does too; fourth; between the talking, changing the subject and gesticulating; it's pretty impossible to get anywhere... I'm impressed we even manage to arrange for a get together!
On that particular day, New York was soaking wet and my shoes were dripping, even my socks! My hair was a frizzy mess; the subway was crowded (more than usual) and like every rainy day, people get disoriented so everything runs slowly; the walking mass don't advance at the usual pace, your only option is to elbow your way head-on into the sea of people to get in time to your destination; and Serendipity doesn't wait... so there I was, clutching my bag under my arm, tightly grabbing my umbrella, arranging my scarf and elbowing... and I mean a lot!
There's something you don't know about me and it's that I'm not a patient person... I don't like to repeat myself, I can't cope with hysteria and I don't like to deal with a crowd of people in the street.
Tough for me living in this small island with so many people (1,634,000 people to be exact); one of the most densely populated areas in the world (can you imagine what this information did to my nerves??)
Tough luck!!
If you've been to Serendipity you obviously want to come back, I was like the donkey and Serendipity was the carrot, and it was a really palatable carrot!!
So after 34 SMS from the girls (we really CAN'T agree that easy, sorry humanity), 13 thousands elbowing, 55 percent drench-er, 20 percent humidity free hair (the rest 80 percent not so lucky) and 2 reschedules later; I arrived at the place 30 minutes before the arranged time to put our names on the list and have a table ready by 4 pm.
The good news is that after you're seated and enjoying yourself, the place is great, the food is incredible and the sweets are fantastic!
It's definitely worth your while!!
My only advice: don't go on a rainy day, always get 30 min before, the waiting area is non-existent so you most definitely will wait outside the door... ohhh! and no strollers. Sorry mamas!!
http://www.serendipity3.com/