It's rather strange. I have nothing terribly interesting to report yet my life here in Buenos Aires has changed dramatically in the past couple of weeks. Undoubtedly you remember Luciano from my last post. Since I wrote that, he and I have virtually been living together. Every evening after he closes his store, he comes back from Belgrano to Recoleta/Barrio Norte and we cook dinner, listen to music, talk, and peruse the internet. Quite a domestic life, eh? That's not to say that it's boring. I'm always entertained when he's here and never wish that I was alone. That is saying a lot. I have friends that I dearly love but if I spent every night and weekend with them, I'd probably be climbing the walls. With Luciano, I just feel relaxed and at ease with him (even if we do sometimes have to struggle with the language gap a bit).
He almost scares me at times because he's so perceptive or intuitive. A couple of days after my latest post, we were talking about the boxes I've received from the US. You're probably familiar with my regular trips to the central postal facility in Retiro to retrieve yet another box or two of my books and personal belongings. Because I'm moving every couple of months, as I try out life in different areas of the city, Luciano asked me why I didn't store my boxes back in California and have them shipped when I was settled, so I wouldn't need to cart them around here. I said that things hadn't gone as smoothly as I'd originally thought, that I'd hoped I would have figured out where I wanted to live and possibly found a longterm apartment by this time, in which case I would want all of my stuff here.
Then I began to say something else, "En realidad (Actually)..." and he jumped in and uttered a long complicated sentence in Spanish. My jaw dropped and I sat there for a few seconds with my mouth open and a stunned looked on my face. He apparently mistook that for lack of understanding of his words but I'd pretty much gotten everything he said. He jumped up and went to the computer so he could type it into a translation program and then said "¡Mira! (Look!)." It said "Actually you were planning to leave Buenos Aires but now that you've met me, everything has changed and you're going to stay." It wasn't what I was going to say. I'd had something more innocuous in mind, about how perhaps I should have waited on the shipments until I was certain I would remain in Argentina. But, it was what I had been thinking, spot on.
You may recall my mention of a possible visit to Costa Rica later this year. What I hadn't told anyone was that I was planning to spend 6 weeks there not just for fun but to give the country a serious evaluation for my next home. I'd been rather depressed about my social experiences here and thought it might be best to return to my first love, Central America. I've always had such good times there, met really nice people, and already have friends in Panama and Costa Rica. In my mind I was already halfway living there, enjoying my fantasy tropical back yard, two dogs, and spacious home.
And Luciano changed all that, just as he'd said. How the hell did he know? The closest I'd come to discussing it was simply telling him a brief version of my camcorder thief story and a few general comments about having bad luck meeting people, that it seemed everyone I met was looking for profit rather than friendship.
OK, perhaps it was a lucky guess. But it just happens too often to be luck. Not long after the above incident, I mentioned something about my last dog (I've had dogs pretty much all of my life). He said "si, un labrador...negro (yes, a Labrador retriever...black)." That was the last dog I had! I have no pictures of her visible (they're sealed in my photos box, deep within one of the boxes I shipped). I've never mentioned her before. And it wasn't a guess, he stated it as a fact. I've asked him how he does that and he just says that it's a matter of observation, of studying people to understand their character, personality, and way of thinking. I think perhaps he has voodoo charms or an enslaved demon at his beck and call.
Speaking of dogs, last night I told him he's like a big Labrador-type dog. He loves physical attention, the way a dog loves to be petted. Massaged, stroked, and pampered, and I'm not talking in a sexual way. You know how you can pet a dog for 20 minutes and the moment you stop, he either nudges you with his nose or grunts a "woof" to let you know he expects you to resume where you left off? Luciano is just like that, he never tires of it and when I stop rubbing his back or neck he looks at me and says "¡mas! (more!)" It's a good thing I love large cuddly dogs.
He almost scares me at times because he's so perceptive or intuitive. A couple of days after my latest post, we were talking about the boxes I've received from the US. You're probably familiar with my regular trips to the central postal facility in Retiro to retrieve yet another box or two of my books and personal belongings. Because I'm moving every couple of months, as I try out life in different areas of the city, Luciano asked me why I didn't store my boxes back in California and have them shipped when I was settled, so I wouldn't need to cart them around here. I said that things hadn't gone as smoothly as I'd originally thought, that I'd hoped I would have figured out where I wanted to live and possibly found a longterm apartment by this time, in which case I would want all of my stuff here.Then I began to say something else, "En realidad (Actually)..." and he jumped in and uttered a long complicated sentence in Spanish. My jaw dropped and I sat there for a few seconds with my mouth open and a stunned looked on my face. He apparently mistook that for lack of understanding of his words but I'd pretty much gotten everything he said. He jumped up and went to the computer so he could type it into a translation program and then said "¡Mira! (Look!)." It said "Actually you were planning to leave Buenos Aires but now that you've met me, everything has changed and you're going to stay." It wasn't what I was going to say. I'd had something more innocuous in mind, about how perhaps I should have waited on the shipments until I was certain I would remain in Argentina. But, it was what I had been thinking, spot on.
You may recall my mention of a possible visit to Costa Rica later this year. What I hadn't told anyone was that I was planning to spend 6 weeks there not just for fun but to give the country a serious evaluation for my next home. I'd been rather depressed about my social experiences here and thought it might be best to return to my first love, Central America. I've always had such good times there, met really nice people, and already have friends in Panama and Costa Rica. In my mind I was already halfway living there, enjoying my fantasy tropical back yard, two dogs, and spacious home.
And Luciano changed all that, just as he'd said. How the hell did he know? The closest I'd come to discussing it was simply telling him a brief version of my camcorder thief story and a few general comments about having bad luck meeting people, that it seemed everyone I met was looking for profit rather than friendship.
OK, perhaps it was a lucky guess. But it just happens too often to be luck. Not long after the above incident, I mentioned something about my last dog (I've had dogs pretty much all of my life). He said "si, un labrador...negro (yes, a Labrador retriever...black)." That was the last dog I had! I have no pictures of her visible (they're sealed in my photos box, deep within one of the boxes I shipped). I've never mentioned her before. And it wasn't a guess, he stated it as a fact. I've asked him how he does that and he just says that it's a matter of observation, of studying people to understand their character, personality, and way of thinking. I think perhaps he has voodoo charms or an enslaved demon at his beck and call.
Speaking of dogs, last night I told him he's like a big Labrador-type dog. He loves physical attention, the way a dog loves to be petted. Massaged, stroked, and pampered, and I'm not talking in a sexual way. You know how you can pet a dog for 20 minutes and the moment you stop, he either nudges you with his nose or grunts a "woof" to let you know he expects you to resume where you left off? Luciano is just like that, he never tires of it and when I stop rubbing his back or neck he looks at me and says "¡mas! (more!)" It's a good thing I love large cuddly dogs.
No comments:
Post a Comment