On Discos and Meglatons

A fail: The most popular chain grocery store here is called “Disco,” but Argentines appear to be blissfully unaware of this. For instance, whenever I ask where the nearest Disco is, they think I’m using it in the Central American way for “club,” and look really confused and tell me about nearby boliches. So I’ve started specifying “Disco store.” Still,


they’re like, “A clothing store??” Then, finally, I’m like, “No, a supermarket.” And they’re like, “Oh, yeah, there’s a supermarket around the corner, but it’s not called ‘Disco.’” And guess what? It’s a Disco. In big red letters all over the place and on every single bag. I’m so confused.  

A success: So I’ve been using some free trial passes to do all these fitness classes at this fancy gym in town, and it is quite the experience. Aside from a good review of body parts in Spanish (think instructor in stretching class repeatedly calling out about me “rodillas! las rodillas, más atrás!” until, by a fairly lengthy process of elimination, I figured out that he meant knees) and a fun way to listen to Spanish hit music (dance class), I have also had the opportunity to observe the Real Housewives of Recoleta in all their groomed and botoxed glory. Although I’d been told that the Meglaton was “the place to be seen” in town and that “people dress up to go there,” I was still a little shocked to find that this gym probably represents the largest collection of fit, attractive people that I have ever seen in one place.

Only the beautiful survive.

In other words, any random combination of two Meglaton gym members would yield the ultimate genetic jackpot. And the cherry on top: the cardio equipment faces the weights (designed by a girl), in contrast to the Middlebury gym, where the weights face the cardio equipment (designed by boys). Yes, Meglaton. 

Some reasons I’m excited to leave the student residence and move back in with a family this week:

  • My sleep talking is getting out of hand and it is seriously not o.k. to live in a room with 3 other people. My housemate at Carmen’s told me he heard me talking through the walls pretty much every night, though he just found it amusing. But last night in the residence, after I woke myself up by orating pretty forcefully, my top bunkmate went, “Are you delirious??” Ehhh.
  • The student residence here is like a hostel, but a really messy one where no one picks up after themselves. Plus, I have this insane Brazilian roommate who talks at me incessantly in Portuguese (for the umpteenth time, not the same language Francesca).

 Other stuff I’ve been up to: 

  • Took some tango lessons, learned to salsa, went to the Recoleta, Mataderos, and San Telmo ferias, hit up the Festival Rural and Botanical Garden, visited a great art museum in town (modestly entitled “The Museum of Beautiful Art”). Schlepped around.
  • Tomorrow is Friend Day, a holiday Argentines take so seriously that all the phone lines shut down due to an influx of amicable calling/texting. Cuuute. And a happy one to all of you!
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