ARGENTINE THINGS I WILL MISS MUCHO

I'm writing this with teary eyes, not just because the bread is that good, but because today's delivery was the first of many lasts. For the last two years we’ve been ordering bread from Gabriel, a Venezuelan baker living in Argentina, who has been bringing us fresh “masa madre” loaves, baguettes, and ciabattas. Today, we received our final delivery before we leave Argentina.

In less than a week Blas and I will be hopping on a plane headed north. It’s absolutely bittersweet, equally excited about what's to come and sad about what we’re leaving behind, all the goodbyes, and all the “lasts.” We’ll be spending the summer in Wisconsin, then onward to Spain for at least a year. We’re in search of our “forever” home and this is our first step in that process.

As a sort of a homage to Argentina, the place I’ve called home for the last two and half years, I’m reflecting on a bunch of things I’m going to miss. I know the moment I hit post, I’ll think of at least 10 more. But here’s a good start. 

EL SODERO 

Think of the old fashioned milkman, but instead of glass milk bottles, he delivers siphons of soda water. The sodero (the soda delivery man) comes once a week, takes your empty bottles, and leaves fresh, full bottles of soda (he also delivers regular drinking water too).

It was one of the things I was most surprised and delighted by when I moved here. Two years later and I’m equally as jazzed by the custom. 

I even dressed up as a sodero for Halloween. 

BESITOS

If you don’t like physical contact, I don’t recommend visiting Argentina. It doesn’t matter if you’re talking with someone for 10 seconds or 10 hours, you start and end the conversation with a kiss on the cheek. With friends? Besitos. With neighbors? Besitos. With colleagues? Besitos, both when you arrive in the office and when you leave. Someone at the same party who you didn’t say a word to? Besitos for them too. 

Argentinos love their little kisses (or besitos), and I love them too. However, there is an art to the perfect besito, one that I have yet to master. In reality it’s less of a kiss and more of a cheek-to-cheek connection. I’ve committed many “kiss-takes,” including, but not limited to, kissing too light (just sort of an awkward, barely-there graze), kissing too hard (forcefully smashing into the other’s cheek), not knowing where to put my hand (so either strangely dangling it by my side or aggressively grabbing the person at the waist), and forgetting to make the essential “smooch” sound. 

Besitos, I will miss you, but I’m not sure the feeling is mutual.  

DINNER

But maybe not in the way you might think. Yes, they have incredible steak and the empanadas are delicious. But what I love most about Argentine dinner is the timing, both when it starts and when it ends. 

Most restaurants don’t open until 8pm. Rush dinner hour is anywhere from 9-11pm, and many people are still eating at midnight. Even families at home, with kids, typically don’t eat dinner until 9 or 10pm. Argentinos eat late, and I love it. 

Eating later makes the day feel longer. There’s this nice time between merienda (afternoon coffee/pastry/snack around 5pm) and dinner where you’re already off work but don’t have to rush to start cooking. It’s a few hours where you can do errands, exercise, take a nap, whatever. It sets a leisurely pace for the entire afternoon and evening, which brings me to my other favorite part of Argentine dinner: Sobremesa.

Sobremesa, which translates to “on the table,” is the custom of relaxing and chatting at the table after a meal. When Argentinos are done eating dinner, no one gets up, unless it’s to open another bottle of wine or make a pot of coffee. No one worries about starting on the dishes or putting away leftovers, that can all happen later. Todo bien, no pasa nada, tranqui. 

ENTREPRENEURIAL SPIRIT

The economic situation in Argentina is tough, to say the least. But with economic hardship comes ingenuity and creativity, something Argentinos have mastered. A few examples: 

This summer there was a total mosquito invasion and repellent was sold out across the city. The neighborhood pharmacy, apparently with a stash of OFF!, set out a sign offering to spray each side of your body; $500 pesos for the front, $500 pesos for the back. Genius.

On one of the main avenues in La Plata there’s a grassy median that splits the lane. One day, a guy decided to start a giant garden there. No permit, no permission, just started digging and planting. Eventually the operation got shut down, but for months this guy was harvesting (and cooking – he also set up a small grill) corn, tomatoes, and zucchini, right in the middle of the avenue. Craziness. 

Blas and I were walking one night and noticed a sandwich sign on the sidewalk a few doors down from our house. When we got closer we realized the neighbor had turned her garage into a small restaurant, Parilla al Paso. So, we stopped in for a sandwich. Again, no permit or health inspection, just a neighbor who saw an opportunity. You gotta love it.  

IMPROMPTU PICNICS

The side of the highway, the airport cell phone waiting area, the center of a roundabout. Maybe not the first places that come to mind when you think of an ideal picnic location. That is, unless you’re Argentinian. 

Over the last couple of years I’ve seen people having picnics in the oddest of places. They also always seem to be so prepared for a picnic – most times complete with mate (the traditional tea drank from a dried pumpkin), pastries, colorful folding chairs, and even sometimes a small folding table. I have the feeling that most Argentinians have an emergency picnic starter pack in their trunk, which, frankly, is something I think the rest of the world should adopt. Forget the car jacks and road flares, bring on the picnic baskets and blankets. 

I unfortunately have no photo evidence of some of the odder locations, but here’s a couple with their emergency picnic pack in use. 

VERMUT

Argentina is known around the world for its wine regions and incredible malbecs. The wine here is delicious–and affordable to boot! But the Argentine vermouth (or “vermut” as it’s called here) culture is equally impressive and interesting. 

Before when I thought of vermouth I pictured a dusty old bottle in the back of the bar that got splashed into martinis once in a while. But here, there are places called “vermuterías,” dedicated to producing and serving several styles of vermouth. Some you drink with soda (served in those cute glass bottles from the sodero) and some you drink straight on ice with a twist of orange. 

Luckily the vermouth game in Spain seems equally as strong, so I won’t have to miss this one too much. 

NEIGHBORHOOD CLUBS 

Nearly every neighborhood in La Plata (and most Argentinian cities) has a sports and culture club, sort of like a community center. From our house, you can walk to at least four different clubs. They organize sports for kids and adults, hold fitness and dance classes, there’s usually a restaurant or cafe, and sometimes they even have a small library. They’re casual and low cost. They connect the community. They’re the perfect third place.

Hogar Social Club

Club Libertad

LIFE DOESN’T STOP WITH AGE

Elderly Argentinos get after it. They’re in zumba and ping pong classes, they walk their big dogs down bumpy sidewalks (leash in one hand, cane in the other), they’re out with the gals drinking wine, and they stay up with the group until 2am on New Years Eve. 

It seems that in the US, in particular, people are devalued as they age, with certain activities being dismissed as "you're too old for that." That just doesn’t seem to be the case in Argentina, which is so awesome to see.

THE CASA (AND THE CAT THAT CAME WITH IT)

Blas and I live in the house that he grew up in. It’s old and classic and so so beautiful. The original doors and windows all have such character and cool details. Blas’ parents planted tropical Elephant Ears and climbing wisteria, which, 40-some years later, have turned the backyard into a lush, green oasis. And Blas, a very talented woodworker, has filled the space with handmade furniture. I feel so lucky to have called this house my home for the last few years and I will miss it mucho. 

I’ll also miss Quarentina, the neighborhood cat who has declared residency here as well. We never feed her, but everyday, without fail, she’s on the patio, meow-ing for a head scratch. I’m not a cat-person, but there’s something about this little kitty that I love. 

LOS ARGENTINOS

There’s a stereotype, especially in other parts of Latin America, that Argentinians have big egos. This is true. (Haha I’m sorry to my Argentine readers, but stick with me.) What is also true is that Argentinians are some of the warmest, funniest, most welcoming, and most fun people I have ever met. Argentines don’t sweat the small stuff (which is maybe the secret to happiness?!), they know how to take it easy (hello, siesta), they prioritize family and friends (there’s even a national friendship day), and they are very, very good at telling you how they really feel (Argentina has the most psychologist per capita than any other country). Being from the midwest, where telling someone how we really feel is harder than pretty much anything, Argentine honesty can feel like a breath of fresh air.

These last few years have been truly awesome, and that’s in huge part to the people I’ve met here.

So, against all advice, I will cry for you, Argentina. I will miss you, but I will be back someday for more late dinners, impromptu picnics, and besitos.