chicago is for extranjeros

one of the things i love most about myself is that i can have a lot of fun alone. today i went to chicago, partly on a mission for a friend. that mission accomplished, i continued along michigan avenue, crossing over to Millenium Park (which is amazing, i recommend it). then i continued up the magnificent mile with my final destination being bloomingdales.

around 2pm i was hungry so i stopped in at marshall field's, water tower place, thinking that there was some kind of food court on the seventh floor. i ask a sales associate on the ground level and she says not really, but we have a deli on the seventh floor (the food court i am thinking of is actually in the state street store). so i get in the elevator to check out this deli, and i hear it. mamá, me escuchás? says the young porteña on her walkie talkie.

what is the deal? it can´t be just me but it seems that everywhere you look there are argentines. even before the elevator incident, in the park i encountered a group of about six of them looking at this outdoor photo exhibit. walking along michigan avenue there was another group of younger ones. walking back there was this couple behind speaking castellano. either there are tons of args in this city or i have a very acute awareness of them. and i feel bitter every time i see them. i don´t know why.

i had a close call in lacoste and left very frightened - i went looking for this one shirt i had seen in one of their ads, and there was this dark-haired girl talking with the salesperson with an accent. he asked her if she had run in the marathon (which was yesterday) and she said that she had. flashback one year to me being bitched out by a porteña in english because i suffered the innocent misfortune of going out with her boyfriend believing that they had broken up. i remember one conversation that i had heard him having with her the last time i saw him (over the phone they were calling each other back and forth from argentina to chicago and fighting), i remember him telling her that she should leave him alone, that she had a race to run the next morning, etc. so in lacoste there is a dark haired girl with an accent talking about having run the marathon and i go completely pale. i ask the salesperson one question and then leave as quickly as possible, just as she is begins to converse again with her people in a language that sounds familiar but that i don´t understand. phew, i think, she´s brazilian.

from what i´ve recounted from my day, it would seem like i had no fun at all. but the good thing about being in the city is that there are so many things and people to look at, you can never go bored. after discovering that the deli on the seventh floor of field´s was not the food court i had imagined, i went out to the mall and looked at the guide. seeing that there is a california pizza kitchen and not being in the mood for mc donald´s, i find CPK, enter, confidently ask for a table for one, go to the ladies room to wash my hands, and finally sit down. i am attended by a nice young man named darrell (though he never introduced himself by name; i found it out on the receipt). i left a twenty for a sixteen dollar bill. i am even proud to say that i ate three quarters of my pizza (and these are decently sized pizzas too!) and finished it off with a huge cappuccino. i was surprized by how big it was that i even took a picture of it. see pics below!

I HATE MY CHIN! it has not been cooperating with me ever since i left chile. it is still reminding me of the abrasion i caused it by kissing a boy who hadn´t shaved for a few days. every day something new pops up and it hurts! it aggravates me! causes me ansia! arrrrrrghhhhh when will it be over???????!!!!!!!

and one last thing: i am very nice. what i mean is that i usually give a lot. without expecting much in return. this could be a very good thing or a defect, i still haven't decided. should i try only to give to those who deserve it?