Another World

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My sweet sweet friend Colleen just came to visit. I hadn´t seen her in many many months. Possibly 2 years, but you can´t really count on my math. One notable feature about my relationship with Colleen has always been the constant struggle about where we were going to eat. My great love and willingness to only eat something smothered in cheese or deep fried and my disgust for rice has always put Colleen and I on a rocky path and always leaves both of us in complete frustation. However, when Colleen arrived she was shocked to hear me say phrases like "Hey let´s try this Indian restaurant" or "I know of the BEST Armenian restaurant." Was this the same Lizzz that physically exited her life 2 years ago?

I blame it on the eating habits of Argentines....that of a 12 year old. I blame it on the bland seasoning of salt and hold on a minute.....is that some parsley in there? My eating habits have changed. I have become a smige (dont get excited...I only said a smige) more adventurious and dream of foods that combine various flavours to creat new ones.

This weekend I dusted off my large Guia T ( the bus schedule book that is utterly confusing for the first timer and the bible of the old seasoned bus rider) and pulled my friend Brian away from his thesis. I had been hearing about new graffitti on a southern street called Caseros and wanted to check it out. Brian is not a good "explorer". He quickly sought out food and when he was filled he said "great, let´s go home." I pointed out that there had been no exploring. We had taken the bus to where we were and besides I had already seen everything on the way home. What we needed was a new path. A new trail to blaze. After sniffing out a few street corners we found outselves in Parque Patricios.

Parque Patricios is a sleeping little barrio hidden behind Constitution. Poor Parque Patricios. It gets non of the glory. Constitution is one of the transportation hubs of the city. There is a beautiful train station that is the victim of many violent riots. Constitucion is littered with hot dog wrappers and empty liter bottles of beer. There are cheap hotels and cheap sex by the dozen. Poor Parque Patricios. It has non of this. It is just a quiet little barrio with some delightful little parks. Oh, and it also was the home of the famous Petis Orejudo. Petis Orejudo....the little big eared boy. Petis Orejudo son of immigrants. Petis Orejudo serial killer of little children. With a name like Petis Orejudo I might be a serial killer too. (this is a great website in Spanish about Petis Orejudo.)

At this point you maybe wondering...what does Parque Patricios and Petis Orejudo have to do with my adventerous eating. Well, at the corner of Alberti and Juan de Garay Brian and I looked up....angels started to sing....a light was shining down from above....What we saw in front of us was a confiteria arabe....and arab bakery. A bakery a student had told me about. A bakery filled with Arabic coffee, pistachio cakes, baklava, fresh pita bread, hummus....The best way to explain the place is to quote Brian "I wish I hadnt eaten already". A couple doors down we saw a mosque and we started talking about immigrantion to Argentina, the non European variety.

As we slipped out of Parque Patricios and into San Cristobal to get the E.line home we smacked our sticky date fingers and every once in awhile I squeezed my squishy little pita breads I had in a plastic bag. In the end we found adventure and food from another world.

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Comments

[brian]

chapati??
this pan arabe is it possibly indian chapati? they eat this in kenya too! it looks the same...

[LizzZ]

pan arabe
pan arabe is pita bread.

[Scott]

!
smidge.