27.04.2005 Bumming Around |
 By the way, the mono mochila monkey cat is dead. When Emilio and I came back from our trip to the city, it lay there, all stiff, in his box, the skinny body twisted due to the wild spasms that preempted its death. We were out for at least ten hours, and we already knew, before we left the house, that it wouldn’t survive. But it’s not over yet: a couple of days before the kitten died, it bit me, and now I have this super mean infection in my hand. No amputation as yet but it’s quite bad. I do have all the necessary vaccinations though so it will hopefully heal without me having to see a doctor. But this wasn’t the only shit thing that happened to me. I met up with Raul and we went fishing. Coincidentally, his favorite place on the river is my favorite spot as well. It’s next to the naval museum, and on the other side of the water is a deserted blue farmhouse. Its deep azul colour is complimenting the sky, the view is trippy and surreal, just how I like it. “Go to Manuel - around the corner on the right side is a place that sells beer – and send greetings from the maestro,” said Raul. I went, carefully carrying the money he gave me. A woman served me, accepting my stuttered greetings with a wry smile. I returned, and while we drank and prepared the rods for fishing, Raul kept on telling me how beautiful I was. It pissed me off immensely because I just wanted to drink beer and enjoy the sunshine. On this day, I was particularly moody so I just walked off because he wouldn’t stop talking like this when I told him to shut up. This was the end of our wonderful friendship - maybe because I didn’t see the reality of it all I was particularly disappointed with him and me. Itjust wasn't meant to be - the crazy old madster and the honey dew haired German girl. Nevertheless, I am still in love with the world, my reality is exiting, almost a bit hectic now. I was getting used to me spending much time by myself, but now I am out and about meeting and getting to know people. I have found a true reveler in Debora, my house mate, as she wants to learn German now. She is the third girl I know here (apart from Eloisa and Sarah, my oldest friend in Buenos Aires) who wants to learn or practice the language so I am actually having a tight schedule of more or less formal language lessons, sometimes in bars and sometimes in my kitchen, a bit stoned. It’s great, I can already swear like a Mexican. Germany is astonishingly well regarded here. This goes down a treat as I am used to verbal beatings from various English people. |
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