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| Cominito, La Boca, Buenos Aires. |
An insight to the strange workings of my mind…and an example of why I’m still single.
My siesta was broken by the sight of a lady placing her back pack next to the spare bed in our room. Seeing I was now awake, she came and introduced herself as Ingrid, in an accent I couldn’t place. I said, ‘Swedish?’. ‘No,’ she replied, ’I’m from Estonia.’
A moments hesitation on my part before saying, ’Is it near the Ukraine, former USSR.’ The first part she was happy to clarify, ’No it is north of Ukraine. Almost Finland.’ Addressing the second part of my statement her tone changed, ’and yes it was a reluctant part of the Soviet Union.’
She then searched through her bag and produced a small book, ’If you would like to know more,’ she said handing me the book. It was a publication on Estonia. I could tell she had been through this routine many times. ‘I am the unofficial Ambassador of Estonia.‘ I took the hint and as she unpacked I turned the conversation to other matters. I told her that the craft markets, only a short walk from the Hostel were still on but she would have to leave soon to see them and so she did.
I was determined to make up for my ignorance, so while she was at the markets I read the book from cover to cover and memorised even the obscure details in the Facts of Estonia section. Once completed, I showered and left for the café.
When I returned to the Hostel Ingrid was in the room and I declared I was now an expert on Estonia so she could ask me anything she wished. Having nailed the common questions I stopped her and said, ’Please, you’re insulting my intelligence, ask me something difficult.’ When I correctly answered how many rivers greater than 10 km the country had and the percentage breakdown of Russian, Polish and Finnish citizens correct to the second decimal place, grinning, she closed the book.
I wasn’t trying to be a smart arse but it was my way of trying to correct the fault that I could not even place her country on the map and being so casual with the remark about Estonia being a part of the USSR.
It turns out that Estonia has more in common with Finland, their languages share the same roots.
To give you a better picture, take someone who sounds like Bjork and give her the body of Anna Kournikova, and you have Ingrid. She ran a half marathon in Santiago a month before arriving in Buenos Aires.
Fast forward past Boudjeka’s going away dinner that evening, the next day spent wandering around La Boca with Ingrid then dinner that evening at El Desnivel and you find a group of five people having a drink at The Red Door in San Telmo. Ingrid and I, Alfonso and Agnes (Venezuelan and Latvian, a couple Ingrid knew from her travels) and another Alfonso (Brazilian, a friend from the Hostel). Things were going swimmingly.
As two Argentine girls sat down at the table next to us one spilt her drink. I asked Alfonso to ask her what she was drinking. She told him in Spanish, he told me in English and I went to the bar, bought the Argentine girl the drink and returned to the table and gave it to her. I couldn’t speak to the Argentine girl, so Alfonso picked up the ball and ran with it.
I don’t know if Ingrid had any amorous intentions towards me but I sensed things cool after this. The night continued and for a period Agnes and Ingrid spoke of conditions under Communist rule. It would not have been easy to bring up this difficult past and I felt privileged to hear the reality of the Communist Ideal.
We called it a night and I walked with Ingrid, followed by Alfonso and the Argentine girl, Donnella, back to the Hostel.
I don’t know if things would had been different if the Argentine girls hadn’t appeared. But I hope, if Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost is anything to go by, that I don’t have to wait a year and a day to re-establish a connection.
I’ll keep you informed.
My siesta was broken by the sight of a lady placing her back pack next to the spare bed in our room. Seeing I was now awake, she came and introduced herself as Ingrid, in an accent I couldn’t place. I said, ‘Swedish?’. ‘No,’ she replied, ’I’m from Estonia.’
A moments hesitation on my part before saying, ’Is it near the Ukraine, former USSR.’ The first part she was happy to clarify, ’No it is north of Ukraine. Almost Finland.’ Addressing the second part of my statement her tone changed, ’and yes it was a reluctant part of the Soviet Union.’
She then searched through her bag and produced a small book, ’If you would like to know more,’ she said handing me the book. It was a publication on Estonia. I could tell she had been through this routine many times. ‘I am the unofficial Ambassador of Estonia.‘ I took the hint and as she unpacked I turned the conversation to other matters. I told her that the craft markets, only a short walk from the Hostel were still on but she would have to leave soon to see them and so she did.
I was determined to make up for my ignorance, so while she was at the markets I read the book from cover to cover and memorised even the obscure details in the Facts of Estonia section. Once completed, I showered and left for the café.
When I returned to the Hostel Ingrid was in the room and I declared I was now an expert on Estonia so she could ask me anything she wished. Having nailed the common questions I stopped her and said, ’Please, you’re insulting my intelligence, ask me something difficult.’ When I correctly answered how many rivers greater than 10 km the country had and the percentage breakdown of Russian, Polish and Finnish citizens correct to the second decimal place, grinning, she closed the book.
I wasn’t trying to be a smart arse but it was my way of trying to correct the fault that I could not even place her country on the map and being so casual with the remark about Estonia being a part of the USSR.
It turns out that Estonia has more in common with Finland, their languages share the same roots.
To give you a better picture, take someone who sounds like Bjork and give her the body of Anna Kournikova, and you have Ingrid. She ran a half marathon in Santiago a month before arriving in Buenos Aires.
Fast forward past Boudjeka’s going away dinner that evening, the next day spent wandering around La Boca with Ingrid then dinner that evening at El Desnivel and you find a group of five people having a drink at The Red Door in San Telmo. Ingrid and I, Alfonso and Agnes (Venezuelan and Latvian, a couple Ingrid knew from her travels) and another Alfonso (Brazilian, a friend from the Hostel). Things were going swimmingly.
As two Argentine girls sat down at the table next to us one spilt her drink. I asked Alfonso to ask her what she was drinking. She told him in Spanish, he told me in English and I went to the bar, bought the Argentine girl the drink and returned to the table and gave it to her. I couldn’t speak to the Argentine girl, so Alfonso picked up the ball and ran with it.
I don’t know if Ingrid had any amorous intentions towards me but I sensed things cool after this. The night continued and for a period Agnes and Ingrid spoke of conditions under Communist rule. It would not have been easy to bring up this difficult past and I felt privileged to hear the reality of the Communist Ideal.
We called it a night and I walked with Ingrid, followed by Alfonso and the Argentine girl, Donnella, back to the Hostel.
I don’t know if things would had been different if the Argentine girls hadn’t appeared. But I hope, if Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost is anything to go by, that I don’t have to wait a year and a day to re-establish a connection.
I’ll keep you informed.
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