Knowing only ten words in Spanish is a real hindrance. When the lady who sold me my bus ticket told me where to go to catch the bus, my only logical reply was a dumbfounded stare and some drool. And with that drool I was off on an adventure of a lifetime. After trying to get on the wrong bus, I did manage to find one that would take me from the airport to the city of Buenos Aires. Next, how to get from that bus, to my hostel...but first, I had the opportunity to look like an idiot. After the bus stopped, I notice a sign which says "aeroparque", this looked enough like airport (hey, spnaish isn't so hard after all) to convince me that this is the city airport stop, and not the city center. This deduction was, of course, wrong. The nice ticket agent, who I suspect is actually a mind reader, informed me so by using one of the ten words I know, "aqui".

Crisis one, averted, crisis two, "Where the hell am I?" As a travelling idiot, it is my duty to not look like a tourist (impossible at 6'4" and white as a sheet), so naturally I didn't want to pick up a map or ask directions. Instead, I just start walking. I learned that in forestry school. Luckily, I met up with some non-idiots who had a map and were able to tell me that my hostel was only 20 or 30 blocks away. Eighty degrees, two blisters, and some odd looks later I stumbled into a blissful oasis known as the Sandanzas Hostel.

Luckily, Pablo was working the desk, and while he was not quite as good a mind reader as the ticket taker (he asked me if I was hot, which I took to mean hello), he did promptly offer me a beer. Finally, a language I understood. While consuming said beer, I met a fellow yank who had just arrived (sans luggage) as well. We decided to hit up an authentic tango show that evening (thanks Pablo). The music was fantastic, but again, my idiocy could not be quelled. I had to order dinner. I knew exactly three words on the menu, asado, pollo, and cerveza. Asado it is. Knowing Argentina is renowned for its beef, I figured this was the safe bet. Instead I got two small sections of grisly beef short ribs and pile of french fries. Ah well, at least I knew the wine would be good. And it was, but it was also the second most expensive item in the place. As an idiot, it is key not to ask too many stupid questions like "Do you have a wine list?" Instead, ask if they have wine, and when they start listing just say "That one" What's the worst that could happen? After Doug and I finished with the dishes and swept the floors we headed home. Just joking, but the bill was a huge shocker.

The next day, I set out alone and flew my idiot colors to full effect. I did use a menu to order my meal, but sans Spanish, I was unable to answer any questions at all. Maybe she asked me if I wanted soup or salad, maybe she called me a toothless hick from the north (rightly so, mind you). These are life's big questions which may never be answered.

Well, my comfort as a travelling idiot is increasing, and I can't wait to try out new things, like ordering desert. Asparagus sounds like a tasty finish for a meal.