Ode to Living in a Sauna

Well, the heat has finally gotten to Petro and I. Last night marks the first time that I have ever effectively fallen alseep while maintaining a full out sweat. Our lofted bedroom area doesn´t help matters and air conditioning is impractical at places like this, therefore it is non-existent. "We´ll, I´m sure they would at least have fans there?"--you would think, but that is probably precisely why they don´t have a fan in the rooms--because it makes sense. Just like having a kitten farm in your room is probably ultimately bad for business and therefore doesn´t make much sense to allow (i hinted to the owners about my slight alleregy to cats and their remedy was for me to move rooms, which i didn´t). Don´t get me wrong about our current lodging situation, i actually really like it, but my brain is still operating in a western capitalistic mindset. This shock to my mindset climaxed yesterday when I witnessed a group of B.A. businessmen in suits sleeping in lawn chairs in the shade in the downtown area (pic taken and will be posted soon). Back to the fan problem--To be totally fair, there actually is one portable fan in the residence, which we tried to use two nights prior. It easily dates back to the turn of the 20th century and I am pretty sure the previous model that particular fan company put out before this one was powered by mice running around a wheel. Evidently WD-40 is quite rare around here because I´m sure one shot of that could have corrected much of the racket that fan produced. On to more exciting things...
A couple nights ago a group of us from the house made a foray into downtown B.A. to see what city had to offer in terms of nightlife. To preface the story, clubs and popular bars in B.A. do not really start going until 3 a.m. so you can imagine what sort of condition we were in prior to our arrival there. Once there, your choice of poision is either the one beer brand they carried (Heineken) or one of their liquor concoctions. In keeping with their misinterpretation of many of our American trends, Argentines have created a drink called "Speed & Vodka," which is supposed to be the equivalent "Red Bull & Vodka," however the speed part of the drink is practically near the level of toxity as its illegal namesake, making it about 5 times as strong as a traditional Red Bull and Vodka. Being a man with little regard to personal health, I did see Petro take down a few of these Speed and Vodkas and it did not appear to have much of a detrimental effect on him. Although, I did see him later involuntarily gyrating in a corner of the dancefloor with purplish foam coming from the sides of his mouth. With a vast mental archive of past Petro behavior and not wanting to jump to conclusions, I am hesistant to draw a correlation between Speed and Vodka and Petros erratic behavior. By the way, if you foresee yourself visiting a nightclub in Buenos Aires or in any latin American city in the near future, I would recommend instituting a mental conditioning regimen to help you prepare for the experience--my main advice would be to stare into a strobe light for at least 2 consecutive hours and later increasing the time as appropriate.
This week has started out promising--yesterday we signed up for private spanish classes commencing later today. The agreement called for 10 hours of private lessons each but i think as soon as we can nail down the phrases "I´m sorry but that was not intended as an insult to your family" and "can we talk for the rest of the time in english," than we will probably quit the class.
Also, Petro has alluded to my "night terrors" on his blog, which warrants a reponse and an explanation but I am mentally spent at the moment and will try to address the issue tonight or tomorrow.

Hasta Pronto,
Q