Move 'Em Out, Rawhide!

Day 6

We went back to the cafe where the day before my camera had gone missing. Despite the fact that I had diligently practiced, "Did you find a camera yesterday?" in Spanish until it was phoenetically perfect, they did not produce the item in question.

We had been warned about theft in Argentina. I actually felt fortunate that only my camera, not my cash, credit card, or apartment keys were taken. Of course, all the latter items were in my Travelon bag which I always kept strapped across my body under my breasts, usually under my coat. To reach that bag, you pretty much had to sexually assault me. Taylor was not a fan of this bag. He claimed it was only one step up from a fanny pack, the epitome of nerdy travelers and I might as well wear sandals with socks while I was at it. However, the only item stolen was the item NOT in the bag, so it was a tradeoff I accepted.

Today was Sunday when the famous San Telmo market is held. I was a little unsure exactly where the market was in San Telmo, but I could hardly have missed it. It went on for blocks. They closed the street to vehicles to make room for the tables, blankets and hordes of tourists.

The San Telmo market was tough for me because I kept falling in love with all the wrong stuff. Some women fall for unsuitable men, I fall for unsuitable accessories. First up, was a beautiful scultped leather handbag. It was expensive for Buenos Aires, more than US$120. But the elaborate patterns made it a piece of art. However, it was a piece of art shaped like a binnocular case. Every time I carried it, I'm sure somone would wonder why I had brought my binoculars. If I'd actually owned a large set of binnoculars, I'd have bought it in an instant. But it didn't really work as a handbag. So I reluctantly moved on.

Tay bought a teeshirt for a friend and was triumphant at finally getting a vendor down in price. (Tay saved a whole 25 cents.) Other shopping for Taylor included looking for a painting. While there was a slightly bigger selection of art here than at the handicrafts market yesterday, it was equally bad in quality.

Most tourists come to Argentina to eat the cows. I, apparently, want to bring them home as accessories. My first big finds at this market were cowhide pillow covers. These were US$19 and I bought one in brown and white for me and one in black and white as a gift. As soon as I paid for them, I knew I was going to be keeping them both!

I also bought a wide leather and silver bracelet. It was too big for my wrist, so the vendor cut off the leather and reattached the clasp while I waited.

Later, I saw a gorgeous black and white cowhide valice. I really, really wanted it. But I remembered the Lesson of the Disco Bag. In China, I bought this cute bag that would be perfect for taking out to clubs. Unfortunately, I conveniently forgot that I never went to clubs. Five years later, I donated the still unused disco bag to Goodwill. Hoping to avoid buying stuff for a lifestyle I didn't actually have, I tried to envision where I would be taking this cowhide valice. I visualized carrying it on a plane. But instead of my face, it was Paris Hilton holding the cowhide bag. Worse, there was a chihuahua with a rhinestone collar peaking his head out from the top of it. I oh-so reluctantly walked away.

I later satisfied this irrational attraction for more cowhide by buying a 4' x 6' cowhide rug. Initially, I had no intention of buying it. I was just admiring it. The vendor could tell this, so she knocked the price down. (I often get the BEST prices on stuff I have no intention of buying.) The rug passed my visualization test. I could see it on the back of my sofa or on the wall in my study. So I bought it with my remaining stash of U.S. dollars. Taylor volunteered to carry "Bessie," his name for my rug, for me as we went back to the apartment.

That night we had dinner reservations at La Cabreza. La Cabreza is so popular that we were only able to get an 8:30 reservation, which now for us was like eating at 5 p.m. The restaurant was within walking distance. But when we arrived, there was line at the door. I gave them my reservation number, and they directed me to their sister restaurant down the street. There we were immediately seated in a very busy, cozy dining room in one section of an older building. The place looked like an upscale, muted "TGI Fridays" with ecletic items scattered on the walls.

We started with a wonderful grilled provolone apetizer, covered with arugula and sundried tomatoes and a bottle of Malbec. We decided to split the most expensive steak on the menu, a Kobe beef fillet. I was willing to bet that our steak hadn't spent any time in Japan, but after one bite, I didn't care about its provenance. It was the best piece of meat I'd ever eaten. Moist, flavorful, tender--angels sang whenever I took a bite.

The steak was served with about 12 different sides. These were one-third cup portions of creamed spinach, applesauce, wasabi mashed potatoes, creamed pumpkin and a bunch of cold dishes we didn't touch. We had also ordered some very good french fries, which arrived in a serving size suitable for at least three tables. But what Tay and I really wanted was more of that lovely steak. However, splitting the steak turned out to be a good move. We left feeling perfectly full, but not overly stuffed. We would not have been able to resist gourging ourselves into a beef-induced coma if we'd had more of it in front of us.

The total bill, which included wine, tip, appetizer, french fries, sides, was $75. I vowed to stop buying the hides and focus more on the meat for the rest of my trip.