Archive for May 12th, 2008
O_o
Last night, I went to a popular Sunday night milonga, only to find that my friends were sleepy and tired. They had all attended the All Night Milonga the night before (which I had skipped out on, to opt for yummy home-made Peruvian food and a farewell party across the river), so they were all changing their shoes by the time I arrived… That was 10:30pm.
My Lover was happy and relieved that I had come. He had called me, soon after he had arrived, saying my name just for the sake of saying my name… I think he had been missing me, a tiny bit. :-D
Our first tanda consisted of sweet lyrical tangos, the kind of songs that make it so easy to melt into thin air, especially if you are in the arms of a handsome porteño you happen to be madly in love in. As we were passing by a corner table seating some elderly gentlemen, one of them started to call out in castellano, with great gusto:
“¡Oooo! Something something…. rrrrrollo, estrrrrra, rrrrrilo… something something… ¡¡¡Buen provecho!!!”
My eyes were fluttering open and closed, in and out of a waking dream (Oh! That tango was so sweet! But I didn’t know what it was called), but I could feel my Lover’s initial surprise and confusion, and then a slight intake of breathe and a giggle.
At the end of that song, I asked my Lover what the man had said, and he replied that it was the equivalent of “Bon appetit.” I looked over at the table of elderly gents, and smiled. Which drew more exclamations of,
“¡¡Oooooo!!” and “¡Eeeeeee!” and the like.
Later on in the night, when I was grabbing huge chunks of vegetables and crackers by the refreshment table and stuffing them into my hungry mouth, the Oooo Man came over to me and started speaking to me in rapid Spanish.
“Ooooo…muy linda…hoho…heehee…¿cuánto cuesta…something something…todo?”
Erm…
“Yo no hablo español, perdón…” was all I could muster, in my carefully coached porteña accent, ofcourse.
“Oooo, something something… no nececita, something… Sos china? Japonesa?”
That I could understand.
“No, yo soy coreana.”
He then started speaking to me again in rapid Spanish, but I had to say again, helplessly,
“No hablo español…”
I felt like a dummy. There I was, a sweet Argentine gent trying to talk to me, saying (most likely) deliciously lewd things to me, and I couldn’t understand a word. :-(((
It was time to go home. I changed my shoes, and gently took possession of my raincoat (upon which, the Oooo Man happened to be sitting), said “Ciao, buenas noches”, and walked over to my Lover and linked arms.
In the elevator, I started wondering who the Oooo Man might be. My Lover answered,
“He’s a famous milonguero from Buenos Aires. His name is Tete.”
And then I felt like a super dummy.
