I am consumed with blogger's guilt. Faced with the terrible choice of experiencing Buenos Aires, or blogging about it, this week, the blogging part clearly lost out.
Fear not. Tomorrow is Sunday, with hours of vacant time looming. I promise some kind of enormous prose dump. Right here, on this very blog.
That is, assuming I don't yield to the siren call of Evita's grave. Right there in the Recoleta Cemetery, just a handful of blocks away. Not as full of celebs as, say Pêre Lachaise, but still on the list of things a person's gotta visit. Then there's Montevideo, though I'm kind of saving that for next weekend.
I promise, I will try harder. Honestly. Really. I will.
For those of you who check this blog just to see if I'm still alive, the answer is "Yes". Though I am quite tired, what with all the walking and sightseeing and general taking a gazillion hours of classes a week. But my Spanish, she is better than ever. I can say things I couldn't even say in English, now. Not that that's necessarily a good thing.
The plain people of Ireland: Here, this is very disjointed today.
The management: Yes, it is. And your point is?
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1 comment:
Were there any cats?
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