"If you weren´t so pretty, I´d hit you..."

So lastnight I arrived to Buenos Aires. Just a two hour flight from Santiago, and yet worlds apart. The tango capital is alive with a late-night cafe culture and a night life that apparently never ends. I will find out tonight whether that reputation lives up to its standards when I hit the town to party.

In this city filled with chatty waiters, taxi drivers, hotel-clerks and friendly citizens, it´s proven hard not to get sidetracked in conversation with just about everyone. Especially for my equally chatty travel companion, Moira, who decided to respond to a rather sketchy looking lady working a fruit stand who stopped us to ask us who the president of our country was.

Moira corrected the woman, who seemed ready to pounce, saying that Canada had a Prime Minister, not a president.

Slightly defeated, the woman backed down and said, "Oh, you´re from Canada..."

So Moira says, "Yes, but my friend, Meri, here is from the United States."

Which fired the woman right back up. Getting up close to my face as I´m innocently peeling my orange, wondering why Moira indulged this woman in conversation, she glares at me and says, "If you weren´t so pretty I´d hit you." Followed by a speech about her arab descent, her hatred for George Bush and how many arabs he´s killed, and basically just looking for a reason to actually hit me.

I continued peeling my orange, looking down at my feet and waiting for Moira to talk our way back out of the situation. After about 10 "You´re absolutely right, señora, you´re absolutely right," she left us alone.

Phew, from now on I´m going to be from Canada too.

Ok, just a short message from Palermo neighborhood in Bs.As. before heading out for some Argentina-style shopping (aka fashion on the cheap!)