I kind of neglected the Argentine blog, but only because Claire and I were really busy. I think I stopped writing in El Bolson (a hippy town in the mountains). We stayed in a great hostel and made fweinds! We also went on a hike which was really long and almost ended in a fight because Claire and I reverted back to our old ways of interacting with each other. Typical! Claire tried to take us back on the unconventional route, but quickly lost confident due to her indecisiveness. I was tired and crabby, and don’t really like hikes that extend over 4 hours (we had hit the fourth hour). We quickly got over it and I took pictures of Claire peeing in the woods as payback.
Then we took another 20-hour bus ride. Well, it was supposed to be 20-hours. Argentine’s like to protest, and they decided to do so in the middle of the country. This lead us to be on an almost 30-hour bus ride. The man behind me snored so loud, and the DVD player wasn’t working. Pretty bad. But now I can say I spent two days of my life on a bus….
Then we arrived back in BA and were really happy. We stayed in a disgusting hostel, with tampons and dirty underwear littering the bathroom floor. Claire and I aren’t that particular, but WE HAVE STANDARDS. They asked us to write a good review because we lied and said we were going to stay with our relatives. We moved to another, way better hostel. Except the first night we had to share a room with four boys. One was an American, who used to work in Finance but then quit to be free in Argentina. He was nice, but then I was talking to him about how it must of been nice to have gotten and job and to have made money after graduating and he was like, “Nah bro, but the money isn’t important.” True, broish San Jose bro. But also money is really nice. Anyways, the other three boys were punk anarchists from Cordoba. I can’t remember all of their names, except for Juan. Juan was the 18 year-old brother of the drummer in an anarchist punk band. Juan was very drunk. Juan kept touching my thigh as we drank beer on the rooftop of our hostel. I kept saying, “Juan, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Claire and I decided to go to bed. Juan followed shortly after. We brushed our teeth together in the en suite bathroom. Juan answered some phone calls very loudly even though everyone in our room was sleeping. Juan “lost” something on the floor by my bed. I told Juan to shut up. Juan gets into bed with me. I push Juan onto the floor. I kind of spent the rest of the night facing towards the middle of the room with one eye open. Juan was harmless, but he was stupid.
Then the Bar Mitzvah festivities began, and Claire and I were reminded of our anxiety. The service was really sweet and reminiscent of our own Bat Mitzvahs, except SOMEONE’S father’s cell phone didn’t go off during the torah portion. Mine and Claire’s Bat Mitzvahs were also slightly traumatizing because we cried through pretty much the whole thing because our parents cried through the whole thing (we are emotional). But then there was the party. It was like the show “My Super Sweet Sixteen” on MTV. It was like this cracked out club for Jews with so much food, and so much dancing, and so much of everything. So first we ate appetizers. Then we were called to the dance floor. Professional pictures had been taken of our cousin, Mati, and were placed all over the tables. They did skits, they did short movies, they did everything. Pictures help to encompass the experience. It went from 7PM-4AM.
Then we slept all day, spent time with the relatives, ate really good asado, and packed for home. I really miss Argentina and my sister. We discovered Claire’s alter ego named Ruth, and mine is Evil Susie. Now we talk to each other like we are children. It’s great. My goal the entire trip was for Claire be more of a crack baby with me. She did it a few times and they were the best times. But now, the US. NYC!