Sábado, 12 de Abril

We had to be up by 11. Not for business, but to catch the incredible breakfast at the Alvear. The breakfast featured pretty much everything you could ever imagine, but my two favorites were simple: Patagonian berries, a tart combo tiny blue berries and a sweet red berry puree, and Cortado dobles, otherwise known as double espressos with warm milk, but better than any coffee found stateside.

After breakfast we walked over to Palermo Soho. This is where Jaspar envisioned our first location. We wandered through the crafts fair in Plaza Serrano, and up and down the restaurant and clothing boutique lined streets. There were a surprising number of signs denoting a building “Alquila” or for rent. This was both encouraging because of the vast number of possible locations and concerning. Why had so many businesses been unable to survive in this neighborhood?

That night was the bar mitzvah – an incredible party and production. We were greeted by some of the most beautiful hostesses I’ve ever encountered, and were treated to an incredible dinner and music by four different bands. The headline act for the evening was an Israeli band that played electronic versions of old Jewish songs. Every band member wore tight leather and dark black sunglasses – classic.

A few glasses of wine and a couple cups of Black Label latter Jaspar and I approached the hostesses. As usual we were met with the classic female Argentine aloofness. But we persisted and the girls got nicer as the night went on. In Argentina a first, second and third “no” translates to “try again”. It is only on the fourth attempt when you truly find out if a girl wants to talk to you or not. Somewhere between our second and third attempt Jaspar’s parents came over to talk with us and brough with them one of Henri’s nieces. This particular niece was Mexican, stunning, and only 16. We flirted playfully and she began to show me how to tango. Then she took my hand and led me away towards the dance floor. As we got to the center of the floor I became aware of a spotlight shinning in our faces. Looking up I realized we had wandered into the middle of the candle lighting ceremony. To make matters worse the niece was not aware of this at all, and began to dance, rubbing against me provocatively. It was only when the niece’s name was called as one of the people Henri’s son wanted to thank that she realized, and ran towards her cousin to embrace him. I rushed out of the spotlight, towards some of the other cousins all of whom were laughing playfully at me. “Ojo,” said an older female cousin pointing at her eye an then at me. At any American bar mitzvah I may have just ruined my relationship with the entire family, but here my gaffe was endearing.

When we left at 2 a.m. the party was still going, the parents wobbled some what inebriated on the dance floor and in the adjacent room the pre-pubescent kids sat at blackjack and roulette tables, gambling faux chips for prizes.

Again the night was not over. Jas and I met Nick at Rumi, another Argentine nightclub. We partied to 6 a.m. and before we left asked some girls to come back with us, shamelessly dropping the Alvear name. “No my parents would kill me…but why are you leaving so early?” Early! When I inquired what time they had to be home, they answered not a minute later than 7:30 a.m.