Message Stick

Life here is pretty damn sweet.  After work is over we attend our Spanish classes at the home of our very patient teacher Gustavo and his lovely Siamese cat Benita.  Progress is definitely being made although somewhat more slowly in my case; I put it down to my age. I shall miss the classes when we move on but definitely not the homework which has seen me regress into a stroppy teenager, never wanting to do it and always finishing it minutes before the next lesson.

We have also been introduced to the world of Argentinian Tango, an incredibly sexy and passionate dance, only not when we do it. Our sweating clumsy bodies were a world apart from those of our teachers, who continually corrected our poor posture and awkward movements.  It’s good fun nevertheless and we love the music although we may just stick to watching the professionals.

In the evenings we usually head to one of BA’s many excellent restaurants.  We are really spoilt for choice where we live with an abundance to munch our way through.  I have even had to make a shortlist of the ones we will manage to squeeze in before we leave next Monday.  The Parilla’s (grill houses) serve up any kind of meat in enormous portions and are Mark’s favourite.  I have become rather partial to visiting the numerous coffeehouses on every street corner and sampling their pastries and washing them down with a submarino, hot, frothy milk with a bar of chocolate dropped into it.

Many of you regular blog followers will have noticed in the photos that my white Malon streak (another one of Mum’s inherited features, thanks very much!) has been growing steadily.  For your diplomacy in not mentioning this I thank you.  A particularly dear friend (naming no names, you know who you are Clare) however felt she could not contain herself any longer and told me in no uncertain terms to get it sorted! The search for a competent English speaking, decent hairdresser in BA turned out to be like the search for the holy grail.  Finally however I succeeded and we turned up, me looking like Morticia Adams and Mark whose Hair had got so big it looked like he was wearing a crash helmet. To his credit the lovely Ryan did not run a mile but rolled up his sleeves and got stuck in.  We are now both sporting new cuts with thankfully much less grey.