Just Argentinean Things...

  As you've probably gathered by now weird things tend to happen here that aren't normal. Big things and little things that I experience or see that just don't tick in my head. The problem is that I've been here nearly two months now and I'm becoming immune to it. Such is this that things pass by without me thinking 'oh my God I need to write about this', but that doesn't stop them being weird. It was only when I looked back at my most recent weekend, for example, that it struck me that a few un-normal things happened.

Just pick your roast chicken off
a stick and you have your
 Friday night dinner.

  I'm going to write this article with a key, so after something that may be construed as 'Argentinean Things' I'm going to put (AT). So just keep that in mind, let's go...

  With a busy couple of weeks coming up with trips to Buenos Aires and Iguazu sandwiching my first camp as a councillor, I decided to spend the weekend at home with my host family. After some basketball and football fun (half player/half referee) with the kids, I went with the host Mum Tatiana to pick up dinner. This was just like home, chilled Friday evening going to the chippy to pick up dinner. Except the chippy here does not sell fish but a whole roast chicken (AT) to accompany your chips (which are the same chips as 'fish and chip' chips). I speculated to myself that this shop would be very busy on Sundays back at home - a quick way to acquire the star of your roast dinner.

 We ate at about 9:30ish. The kids passed on food as they had fallen asleep and I felt like I would soon be joining them. Eat the chicken and retire to bed for a solid 10 hours. My first Friday without going out since arriving here and I was buzzing. This buzz lasted about 5 seconds before I was invited with Tatiana for a drink with her friends. Damn. It was only going to be 'tranquilo' though so I assumed we'd pop off and be back before 12? Oh no. I was told to be ready at 12 (AT), and it was currently about 9:45. Why can nothing just make sense here? What am I meant to do for over 2 hours when the whole house is already asleep? How am I meant to stay awake that long?

  I'm 21, I'm old and want my bed.

A fun night out with the gyals

  Anyway, I did manage it just about by taking an extra long shower and watching YouTube videos of Juan Roman Riquelme strut his stuff for Boca Juniors (that is the wild night I wanted). Enough the Scrooge though as I did actually have a good night and the drinks flowed nicely from 'tranquilo' to rather quite drunk. What woke me up slightly was the completely relaxed attitude towards drink-driving here (AT) and the journey home was something of a 'heart-beating-out-my-chest-crapping-myself' experience. I survived though and your favourite blogger is still here to bore you poor sods with the story.

'Dummies Guide to Older Brothering'
 by Jack Colman

  The next day comprised of a beautiful mix of hangover and the older brother role that I played in this family. This role has one real requirement and that's to be available to play and give attention to the kids whenever they want it and to appear happy and enthusiastic about it. A personal highlight of the day was having the rules of hide and seek shouted at me in front of a packed square as they had caught me on my phone instead of counting (AT). This was quite a regime I was under. Considering the fragile circumstances I was in I would give myself a match rating of 8/10 for the day.

  The evening brought an asado at the house with a number of friends coming over. This entailed the numerous cycles of the presentation of who I was and why I was here. I was becoming such a pro that I reckon I would rock any Year 9 oral presentation by now (details/family/school/town etc.). The food was served at 11pm (standard/AT) but what came after was something that was as unexpected as it was ridiculous - and why it's worth mentioning in this piece.

I really honour him for standing so
close to my voice re-inacting Enrique.

  I got up to go to the toilet and was greeted very randomly with a request to sing an English song (AT). Classic banter. I went along with it and said if they picked me a song then I'd sing it. All jokey jokey. When I returned from the loo only 30 seconds later, they presented me with a microphone and a karaoke video for Fix You by Coldplay was on the TV (AT).

Well this wasn't on the Year Abroad prospectus.

  But I had to own the situation and that I did. I belted out Fix You in a manner worthy of a luke-warm X Factor audition, before being requested to do Wonderwall (obviously) and the Spanish version of Hero by Enrique Iglesias. The latter secretly fulfilled a dream for me but we won't go into that. By the end I had the local crowd on a string and I had performed a concert with more authentic singing than Justin Bieber and Rihanna put together. The Los Cardales music scene had a new cult hero and his name was Shack.

*I even performed with a fan as you can see at the bottom of the page, I am so so sorry for what you're about to hear...*

Young Thiago asked for his hair
'to be like Jack's'
Who can blame him?

  The final mentionable moment of my weekend came the following evening when we went shopping. The element of this trip that most appealed to me was the invitation to a haircut (we know how important this is to me). I was especially buzzing that the kids had told me that they go to this place instead of their local because it gives the best cuts. Win. This only set me up nicer for the slap in the face that was the arrival at a kid's salon. It wasn't even subtle. Bubbly writing, toys everywhere, tiny seats. Why oh why oh why.

Yep, I got my haircut at
Bangu Kids. Yes, I'm 21 year old.

  I awaited the 6 year old and 11 year old to go first before I took my seat among other kids (NN) and started to describe what I wanted. I got the sense that this was the most a client had ever cared about their hair, but that
didn't stop him doing
the five minute minimalistic cut that he gave everyone else. When I asked for more off he look at me as if I'd just said his own hair was s**t (it was). To top it off this luxury experience cost me £14 and I was offered a lollipop when I paid. Humiliation at its finest. (AT)

Looking down the lane
into a destiny of humiliation...

  To make things worse we went bowling afterwards and I lost. I've never been good at bowling but this time I was really unlucky (promise). What made things slightly better was that I wore my brand new Argentina shirt with God's name (Messi 10) on the back that I had succumbed to buying an hour before. Although writing that I realised I, a 21 year old, lost at bowling to an 11 year old whilst wearing a Messi top. Humiliation at its finest.

  So that was my weekend. Bit of chicken, bit of karaoke, some hide and seek and a fresh trim. Solid 8.5/10 weekend if you ask me. It came with a respectable 8 'Not Normals' along the way but who doesn't love a few cultural bumps in the road. The great thing about this is that if I have no obvious material for an article, I can normally just look over my last week and find more than enough uniquely odd stuff to write about.

  Anyway, hope you've enjoyed it, thanks for reading!

Again, I'm very very sorry.