Regrets, I have a few

As my time in Buenos Aires draws to an end, it becomes obvious that there are certain experiences I shall have to forgo this trip. For instance, that trip to Tigre - Paddy and I chose comfort over exhaustion, and my plan to go with Ed this past Saturday had to be shelved in favor of the exciting living statues contest. Also, it seems as if Fate is conspiring to prevent my seeing THE film of the moment, "Los secretos de sus ojos"; despite two efforts to see it with Rodrigo, we have so far not managed to do so.

Similarly, the fact that Friday will be my last evening here makes it highly unlikely that I will be able to participate in the exciting excursion detailed below, much as it pains me to keep my readers in the dark as to the exact nature of the misteryous "Big Ear Pest",



not to mention the macabre tale of Rufina Cambaceres, "the young lady who died twice". Though that name does ring a bell from last year, I'm afraid the details elude me right now.

However, I suppose I could bring a mate to the laberynth of handcrafters on Saturday:



assuming I can find a thermos large enough.

There are some events which occasion not even a tinge of regret, however:



I can safely say that the horror which the thought of this "event" provokes has nothing whatsoever to do with my advanced age. At no point in my life would such a prospect ever have elicited any reaction other than sheer unadulterated horror. As a card-carrying INTJ, I wear my introversion as a badge of honor. If you are an extrovert, who rolls your eyes as you read this, might I suggest that you try spending an evening alone reading a book, or with your thoughts. Oh, that's right - sorry - you don't have any, do you? Besides which, your treasured memory of that delirious pub crawl is going to look like this:



The plain people of Ireland: Here, that's a bit harsh, isn't it? What's wrong with getting together with a few pals for a couple of pints?
MOTP: Nothing. Nothing at all. But what makes you think that things are going to stop after a couple of pints? Take a close look at the debauched faces in those pictures, and tell me that someone isn't going to end up damaged by the end of the night. It's all fun and games until someone ends up with a broken limb, you know.