My feelings of inappropriate lust for my Spanish tutor have reached unmanageable proportions: I think it might be time for us to part company.
During our lesson this morning, as he presented me with me a cup of tea (he even served it with a little dish in which I could rest my teaspoon! I LOVE HIM) he said “You smile a lot in these lessons, no?
I smiled very hard indeed. “It is because you are such a brilliant tutor, of course,” I replied in a moronic fashion, wishing I had not drunk so much Malbec the night before. I had shaky hands and an air of distinct crustiness about me. I was not looking like the kind of girl with whom you would want to get into some inappropriate teacher/pupil relationship.
“In fact, you are the best Spanish tutor I have ever had!” I added, hoping that this would clinch it. “Of COURSE I smile a lot! I am learning so much! It is broadening my horizons!”
He sat down and actually said – he actually said – “good. I was thinking that maybe you had some of the feelings and that would be a bad thing because soon I will get married.” He looked slightly bashful but held my gaze. This man wasn´t messing around. “I think you are very nice and if I was not getting married I would like to maybe eat with you but I am definitely getting married,” he added, just in case the message wasn´t clear.
I burst out laughing in a wild, thigh-slapping fashion. “HA!” I yelled, imploding with mortification. “DON’T BE SILLY!”
Just for good measure I added “I only like blonde men!” as if this would somehow improve matters. Come, sudden death I whispered silently. TAKE ME! I AM READY TO MEET MY MAKER! IMMEDIATELY!
Nothing happened. Alfredo put a page of reflexive verbs in front of me and I smiled on through the lesson.
Dark times, readers.
On the upside, though, I have been exploring my locale and have found two excellent establishments:
1. The Brain Center. The Brain Center is a small run-down building with a shop front and pictures of cortexes and amygdalas in its window. On a large dusty banner above the door one is able to see the name and picture of the medical director, a small, squat man with a manic grin and a bottle of pills in his outstretched hand. I feel like I would probably not want to visit The Brain Center if something went wrong with my brain. But it’s reassuring to know that it’s there.
2. MaxiKiosco. As anyone who has been to South America will know, these places are everywhere. They´re essentially corner shops although they tend only to sell sugar-based products and cigarettes. However my local Maxi-K is operating in a dimension of its own. Alongside sweets, biscuits and dulce de leche sandwiches there is a large cage with no less than a dancing rat in it. I shit you not. The man does some sort of whistley clicky thing and then the rat starts dancing. And you know what? He´s actually pretty good. I think he´d hold his own in any respectable dance-off. As an animal lover I can´t help but feel sad for young Ratty but to be honest he seems so happy it´s hard to do anything other than bellow with laughter when I encounter him. He gets lots of dulce de leche-based treats and, due to his regular dancing gigs, is in excellent trim shape. Plus his cage is almost as large as the Maxikiosco. I am allowed to feed him bits of cookie sometimes.
I love this city, in spite of the fact that it is so cold that I am sleeping with two hats on. It is amazing in all ways.