Kate Golightly
Dawn opened my refrigerator.
Dawn and I got dressed and headed downtown for a visit to Tiffany's. We wore jeans instead of sassy black dresses and strands of pearls, but I like to think we looked pretty great still.
Tiffany's was all it could be and more. I see the allure of breakfasting there, though the guard wouldn't let us picnic in the middle of the store. Go figure.
I glanced over at her from the sink where I washed dishes. I knew what she was seeing in there: not much. I'd meant to go grocery shopping before she arrived to spend the long weekend with me, but I'd been effectively sidetracked by life and hadn't managed to even buy milk. The fact that she was still staring so intently—at pretty much nothing—perplexed me.
Setting the pot to dry, I turned the water off and dried my hands. "I know there isn't much in there, but if you're hungry I can whip up some pasta or—"
"This is amazing." She shook her head, her face illuminated from the light of the fridge. "Do you know what this is like?"
I mentally listed the contents. "A bachelor's fridge," was the logical conclusion.
"No way. A bachelor would have beer and mayo in his fridge. You have cheese, apples, chocolate, and champagne. You're Holly Golightly personified."
I looked down at the tank top and jeans I wore.
"You can be glamorous when you want to be," Dawn said, reading my mind. "And look at your life. Going out all night, parties, dancing, meeting new people. All you need is to twist your hair up and put on that slinky black dress you have in your closet. You even already have the big Audrey Hepburn sunglasses."
"You're making me feel like I need to trip to Tiffany's."
Dawn perked up and closed the refrigerator door. "Excellent idea. We'll grab a croissant and coffee on the way."
"I was suckered," I murmured, grabbing my scarf and purse.
New Year's Adventure
I had vowed I would never go to Café Tortoni.
Why? It's the most famous café in town¹, ergo a tourist trap. Tortoni is the type of place where they dump busloads of Americans for an expensive, mediocre lunch. The first day I was here in Buenos Aires, I could feel the rip-off vibe as I walked by it. Plus the people manning the front looked belligerent, as only those who deal with tourists all day do.
But I broke my vow.
On New Year's Eve, I opted to walk down to the waterfront area, mostly because I miss the ocean, and the river is the closest thing I have. I sat on a bench and watched the young and drunk saunter by, marveling at the women in their super short skirts and four-inch heels. On cobblestone no less—ouch.
A little before midnight I left to walk back home—it was cold (around 75F) and the walk was long. It struck midnight as I reached Avenida de Mayo, a main thoroughfare.
There were very few people on the street², so the two guys loitering outside the closed-for-new-years Café Tortoni stood out. I smiled at them and wished them a feliz años. Conversation ensued. Then one thing led to another, and they invited me into the café to help them celebrate the new year.
Lukas opened a bottle of Chandon, and Ricardo broke out the alfajores. Champagne and alfajores are heaven separately, but together they transcend.
We sat around a small table, happily sipping and nibbling. Conversation flowed late into the night³. If you knew how limited my Castallano is, you'd know how amazing that was.
I couldn't have planned a better New Year. I couldn't have asked for a better way to kick off what's going to be the best year ever.
¹ Café Tortoni first opened in 1858. A lot of famous people have gone their over the years, including Carlos Gardel, Albert Einstein, Hillary Clinton, and me. I bet Hillary didn't have a private New Years Eve party there in her honor though.
If you're really interested in its history, check out Wikipedia.
² When I walked out of the house on New Years Eve, there was hardly anyone on the street—people or cars. Everything was closed also, including all the cafés and restaurants. It was the strangest thing ever. I felt like the entire city went underground. Or that there was a secret party but no one had bothered to invite me.
But once midnight struck, people poured into the streets, cabs and buses began running again, and general Buenos Airean insanity continued as normal.
³ Topics ranged from travel to writing to what great boyfriends Argentinos made.