This morning The Diminutive One informed me that last night she had a dream where she gave birth to a baby lizard. A plastic baby lizard. This was greeted with much happiness from friends and family, that is, until she broke the head off while giving it a bath. She was most upset.
I was telling this to my cousin Matt a few hours ago, via the magic of the windows messenger televidprinter machine, and, after I had typed in the words
'last night Maria dreamt she gave birth to a lizard'
he paused, before replying
'boy or a girl?'
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Monday, March 03, 2008
Mendoza, Argentina
Shopping and eating, that's pretty much what we did in Argentina at the weekend. The Diminutive One sorted a couple of plane tickets, and before you could say "aren't there a lot of loud Americans in the world", we were being taxi'd from Mendoza airport to a hotel we could barely afford.
As I read in a guidebook, Mendoza would be nothing without the trees, and it's true. Someone somewhere had the bright idea of planting a gijillion trees throughout the city, and it transforms a so-so town into something alltogether different. As is our custom, we ignored all things cultural in favour of expensive eateries and shops with shiny things. One restaurant was so expensive I had to leave when the bill came, walk back to the hotel, stuff my pockets with more pesos, then walk briskly back to a worried looking Maria. It was all of 20 quid, twice the price we had paid so far!
The area is a wine producing region, but we didn't drink a drop. Knocked-up Mrs stuck firmly to orange juice (typical Chilean, disgusted if less than 5 fresh juices to choose from on the menu - "they might have wine, but where are their juices?"), pasta and fish. We both ignored the veal tongue and other things that could only be translated as 'innards'.
The highlight of the journey back was Gate One at the airport. Diminutive Chilean found small expensive things in the Duty Free, while I watched a group of US tourists become increasingly worried that they'd missed their plane. Despite the gate not being open yet, and it being a good hour before the plane was due to depart, and all the other passengers not moving an inch, said group were visibly alarmed everytime there was an announcement that mentioned flight 933. Every time the speakers issued something the group would charge off down the tunnel like a brass band in a cul-de-sac, only to re-appear minutes later being ushered back to the waiting room by somebody in a yellow bib.
As I read in a guidebook, Mendoza would be nothing without the trees, and it's true. Someone somewhere had the bright idea of planting a gijillion trees throughout the city, and it transforms a so-so town into something alltogether different. As is our custom, we ignored all things cultural in favour of expensive eateries and shops with shiny things. One restaurant was so expensive I had to leave when the bill came, walk back to the hotel, stuff my pockets with more pesos, then walk briskly back to a worried looking Maria. It was all of 20 quid, twice the price we had paid so far!
The area is a wine producing region, but we didn't drink a drop. Knocked-up Mrs stuck firmly to orange juice (typical Chilean, disgusted if less than 5 fresh juices to choose from on the menu - "they might have wine, but where are their juices?"), pasta and fish. We both ignored the veal tongue and other things that could only be translated as 'innards'.
The highlight of the journey back was Gate One at the airport. Diminutive Chilean found small expensive things in the Duty Free, while I watched a group of US tourists become increasingly worried that they'd missed their plane. Despite the gate not being open yet, and it being a good hour before the plane was due to depart, and all the other passengers not moving an inch, said group were visibly alarmed everytime there was an announcement that mentioned flight 933. Every time the speakers issued something the group would charge off down the tunnel like a brass band in a cul-de-sac, only to re-appear minutes later being ushered back to the waiting room by somebody in a yellow bib.
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