The Super Pancho
Friday I decided I was going to go on an adventure. In the morning, I trekked to Retiro (a forty-five minute walk) to have breakfast with a friend. After breakfast, I'd planned on going to a nearby café I'd spied the previous night on the way to dinner. I was going to write and then go into uncharted Buenos Airean territories.
Nature, however, thwarted me. Picture torrential rain and thunder so violent you could feel the sound waves through your body.
So I tried again Saturday. Only this time, I had a specific destination in mind: the Super Pancho stand in Recoleta, outside the cemetery.
What is a Super Pancho? you ask. Frankly, I have no idea.
Okay, that's a lie. It's a hot dog. Only it's not just a hot dog—it's a super hot dog. I'm not entirely certain how it becomes a super dog, but I'm sure it's a fairly impressive metamorphosis. This is Buenos Aires, after all.
But, Kate, how can you not be sure when you went to investigate? you ask this time. Because, dear reader, the Super Pancho stand I trekked across town to try was deserted when I got there.
I wandered around, lost and confused and without purpose, for a while. But then I spied a bakery, which isn't hard to do since there's one on every block in this city. (I'm not exaggerating.) I walked in and bought two sandwiches de miga and an alfajor the size of my palm.
Sandwiches de miga: a crustless sandwich with three layers of bread and an assortment of fillings. I got one with ham and egg, the other with salami and cheese.
Alfajores: Argentinian Oreos. It's two cookies sandwiching a dulce de leche center. The traditional alfajor is dusted with powdered sugar and edged with coconut flakes.
I also bought two apricots from a fruit stand and then took my picnic to a park bench, where I sat and ate and flirted and listened to music. Not quite the adventure I'd planned, but I wouldn't change a second of it.
Well, maybe I'd change the part where the guy followed me for eight blocks, trying to get me to go to a movie with him on Sunday. But even that wasn't so bad. Especially since he kept saying, quite reverently, that I was so beautiful.
BTW, if anyone knows how to say Bugger off, dude in Spanish, please email me.