Chicos en la Ciudad

Another night at Harrods, different bands, and a different boy. Lately, I have a date here almost every day. And each time I go out I see someone I want to ditch my date for. It's a sickness - there are just too many good ones here. Granted, the majority are just regular males, nothing spectacular. But the good ones are good - and so much more accessible. There's a 1950's niavete here; people are plain nice and that includes males in their twenties and thirties - even the hot ones.



I hope too many foreigners don't ruin the purity of this place. According to the graffiti, some Argentines feel like we are doing just that. I met a pretty girl in the hostel from Pacific Palisades. I came in from dinner with this super nice group of Portenos - we'd had a great time out. It was a Friday night and the girl was in the hostel, at a table full of American boys, telling LA name-dropping stories and critiquing everything and everyone with a snide, jaded tone of voice and sour expression. When the Portenos went into another room and closed the door behind them, she thought they were shutting her clique out and made a remark about them not being cool like she and her friends. They had closed the door because they were smoking and playing loud music but she saw it as some kind of statement.

That kind of poison may disrupt the easy welcome here, but for now, I'm lucky to experience big city hospitality like I've never seen before. To ride a motorcycle to a free concert with a cute boy where decent champagne is cheap and the bands are really good. Where I run into people I know and they're not critical about the fact that I'm with a different date - or about anything. Where people exchange phone numbers and then call you the next day - girls or boys. Where there's always something fun or interesting to do and it is never expensive. And where everyone is nice just because they are - even to Yankees ("shankees").