1. We are walking down the street and Beth, who has a physical reaction to certain species of poop etc. cringes away from a suspicious looking pile then sighs in relief. "There's nothing better then realizing that what you think is last night's puke is just someone's discarded mate," she says.
2. We are walking around the Feria at Mataderos when we come across a man with a grubby white llama and a sign that reads: "Vende llama que llama." We puzzle over this for a while. Is this a sale of a llama that makes telephone calls (llamar)? And Beth, being bold, and determined to use her Castellano asks the fellow:
(Translated)
What does it mean, llama que llama?
I am selling my llama.
Is it a llama that talks?
No no no! (big grin revealing more gaps than teeth) This... is a llama. It, is an animal.
Right, claro.
Where are you from?
The United States.
You don't have llamas in your country?
(Me chiming in - excited to use the word I learned the night before) Yes, a little, but only for pets (mascotas!)
Well, I'm selling my llama. It is a good llama.
(Beth) Well, good luck.
Perhaps - Beth muses - the translation is something like: "Llama -- what a llama!"
3. We go swing dancing - it is incredibly fun. The teacher has just visited San Francisco and danced at the place where we were going a few blocks from our house. He knows Nathan Diaz, one of our teachers back home.
4. I eat the most amazing gnocchi I have ever had, with eggplant and tomato, in this tiny packed restaurant run by a group of young skaters. The chef is my age and wears a "I'd rather be fishing" trucker cap.
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