I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Server edition:

Tonight started like every other night at work.

I got there around 4:15.

I peed.  It’s the first thing I do when I walk through the door.

I ordered my dinner.  Chicken Quesadilla and a dinner salad.

I change into my uniform.  Complete with flair for those of you who are curious.  I even have a name tag.

I go to the kitchen.  I make two Diet Pepsis.

I wait.

Depending on what I order it might take three seconds to get my food.  It might take 20 minutes.  I wasn’t sure tonight since I’d never had the quesadilla.  Luckily the day shift kitchen guy likes me so he always wants to know what I’m having so I can get it as fast as I can.  He even made my salad to order today.

I get my food and my two Diet Pepsis and to the front wait station where I get a fork, a knife and napkins.

I then go to the private dining room where we have pre-shift.

And I sit in my chair.  It the first chair just to the right of the column.  Everyone knows it’s my chair.  They don’t sit there.

I eat.  

I chat. 

I wait.

I usually finish eating before pre-shift starts.  When I first started working there, we had a manager who didn’t allow you to eat during pre-shift.  He got transferred and then was forced to quit, translate that to got fired.  

Pre-shift starts.  Always with an announcement of who’s in what station.  It’s the name and then the section.  Jeff   Station 10.

We find out we are out of Heineken.  We find out we are starting a frequent flyer program for kids.  (Who thinks this shit up?)  We are told we have three large parties coming in tonight.  Where they will go and who’s waiting on them.

And then we go on break.  

Someone complained about a year ago and so now we have to take a break.  And since servers can’t take a break in the middle of the shift.  We clock in and then clock right back out on our break.  It’s stupid and now we get on the floor 30 minutes later than we used to.

I clock out.  I drink the last of my Diet Pepsi.  We talk about Shelter Island.  We talk about Vajazzling. Stop reading now and go look this up.  It’s too funny not to read about.  We talk about how busy we were last night.

At 5:25, I pick up my dishes, I take them to the dishroom, I clock in and I find the daytime server that I’m replacing.

We do the exchange of tables.

All is well.  I’m off to the races.

Everything started as usual tonight.

And it stayed that way until about 10:00 or so.

Around 10:00 I noticed a guy standing around on my side of the bar.  This is no big deal.  I work next to the bar, there are always guys standing next to it.  I waited for him to take a seat, ready to wait on him so he wouldn’t get his drink from the bar.  He stands there and then moves on.

I continue to wait tables.

Around 10:15, I see the same guy.  Standing next to the bar, “texting”, not really doing anything.

Around 10:30, I see him again.  I’ve worked in my restaurant a long time.  I’ve worked in cocktails for just as long.  I can see when a person is looking for someone, waiting on someone, or just trying to figure out where to go.  He was doing none of these things.

He still standing near the edge of the bar when a couple of other servers come up.  I point him out and and ask if they know who he is.  A daytime co-worker.  Someone from their section.  

I find Steve the manager.  Steve’s the manager who tried to fire me two weeks ago.

I tell him that there’s guy floating around the bar who clearly doesn’t belong there.  He wants to know why and I explain to him that he keeps circling the bar, not really landing anywhere and he’s been texting for the last 30 minutes.  I point him out to Steve.  

Steve says okay.

I go back to work but I’m still watching this guy.

He’s now standing right next to the service bar near the first chair at my counter.  And I watch as he moves toward a customer, picks up her purse and starts around the bar with it.

At this point Steve is there and I tell him what I just say.  He starts down my side of the bar toward him, I circle in the other direction to cut him off.  As I approach him I motion for about three other servers to back me up.

I get there first and I stop him and tell him he’s going to have to wait for the manager.  He wants to know why, and I tell him it might be because of the woman’s purse he just stole.  Steve joins us.  Steve asks if he stole the woman’s purse.  He denies it and lifts his jacket and opens his bag.  There is no purse.

He starts to walk away and Steve tells him he’s going to have to wait till the police get there to talk to him before he can leave.

Steve, the guy, me and a couple of servers start toward the front door.  The guy never runs.  He doesn’t try to get away.  He just keeps insisting that he did nothing wrong.

Now we are in the lobby.  

He’s insisting that he did nothing.  I’m insisting that I saw him.  He says if I took her purse where is it.  I tell him I don’t know but I know what I saw.  

He starts to walk away and a cop arrives.

I think the cop might have been about 12.  He looked like he might start shaving next year.

He doesn’t really know what to do with him.

He’s still insisting that he didn’t do anything.

I keep insisting that I saw him take the purse.

He keeps telling us that if he stole the purse where is it.

The cop looks confused.

The cop asks — Did anyone see him take the purse?

FUCK.  I’ve told you I saw him.

Did you see what he did with it?

NO.

Well if he doesn’t have the purse…

Fuck this.

And then I realized he’s dumped the purse somewhere in a ten foot area near the bar.

I run back to the bar and I look in the dark area next to the computer.

Not there.

I look in the trash can next to the bar.

What do you know?

A PURSE.

I take the purse out to the cops and tell him that he doesn’t have the purse because he dumped it in the garbage.

There is still much confusion.

I tell them if they don’t believe me we have security tapes that will prove it.

The cop says, “There are security tapes?”

I say yes.

Steve tells me to go back to my tables and they’ll let me know if they need me.

By this time everyone on my side of the restaurant has seen the incident and wants to know what’s going on.

I try to explain, catch up their table and stop shaking.

I don’t know if I was shaking because I was mad or because I was a little taken aback that I’d actually stepped in between him and the door.

Steve comes to get me.

I go back to the lobby.  The 12-year old wants to know if I SAW him take the purse.  I assure him yes I saw him pick up the purse and round the corner with it.

We all stand there and finally “real” cops show up.

is trying to figure out how to deal with this.

I go back to waiting tables.

By now I’ve pretty much ignored my tables for an hour.

I go back in and luckily a couple of my co-workers have figured out what’s going on and taken orders, gotten drinks, etc. (I just realized as I typed this that I had a four top that got three desserts for free because I never put them on the check after someone got them for them.  Whoops).  I pick up where they’ve left off and I go back to work.

A few minutes later another manager (the AGM) walks by and I ask what’s going on now?  He tells me that he’s called and gotten the security code for the tapes and that he’s going to check them now.

(I find out later that the area he picked to take the purse has at least three cameras pointed at it, because it’s near the service bar and close to the office where they keep the money.)

Steve comes back in and says, “They have your friend in handcuffs out there.”

I say, “Finally.”

He says, “You need to go down to the other end of the bar to answer some questions.”

During all this time there is still the poor girl who had her purse stolen.  Of course, she’s a tourist.  And of course, she’s scared to death that she almost lost her passport, money, etc.  She has been up front and center during all of this.

I go down there and they are questioning the girl.  Why they need to spend 15 minutes talking to her I don’t know.

I’m told they need to get a statement from me and my information.  I tell them to wait just a second.

I find Amber and ask her to cover my section, give her my computer card, and then go back down.

I basically repeat what I’ve already said.

“I saw a guy floating around the bar not really landing anywhere.  I saw him several times and then told the manager that he might want to keep an eye on him.  About three minutes later I saw him take the purse off the back of the chair and move around the end of the bar.”

“You saw him take the purse.”

“Yes.  He took the purse and rounded the bar.  I alerted the manager and then circled the bar to stop him.  When I got to him he didn’t have the purse.”

“Did you see him throw the purse away?”

“No.  But I figured out what he did with it and found it in the trash.”

The cop asked a few more questions and then took all my personal information.

As they were finishing up a cop walked up and said, “You stopped the guy?”  I said, “Yes.”  He shook my hand and said “Good going.”

I found out later that they actually arrested him because:

Seems he finally gave them an ID.  When they ran it through the system they discovered that it was a stolen ID.  He finally gave them his real name and he had a warrant out for his arrest.

By this time, it’s midnight.  I’m still shaking.  It’s adrenaline and nerves and exhaustion.  I go to the locker room and call my boyfriend.  He’s already in bed, but for some reason he had not turned his phone off, and I gave him the three minute version.  I told him I loved him and hung up.

I go back out on the floor and the girl who’s purse was stolen is there and wants to give me 20 dollars for finding her purse.  I refuse the money and I tell her to 1.  Tip the bartender.  2.  Pay it forward.  She agrees to both.

I finished up my shift.

Came home.

I’m exhausted.

The moral of the story:  The young girl whose purse was stolen, who was at the bar with her two friends for about three hours?  That girl.  Stiffed the bartender.  Didn’t leave her a penny.  Not one penny.  

Update:  Three days later I got to work and about 17 people told me the GM needed to see me ASAP.

I go to his office, where I’m told a NYC district attorney has been calling trying to get in touch with me.  They all assumed I was in trouble. 

I call and am told I need to report to the grand jury on a date to testify.  

Two days later I testify.

About a month later, I’m told he was sentenced to a couple of years, for his warrant and the purse theft.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Day 4 this week.  

We were stupidly busy.  Summer time busy.  We did 100 more people tonight than we did a year ago tonight.  It’s crazy.  

We were completely staffed in the FOH, so I got to be on the floor.  

I had the best shift ever. 

I managed the shit out of the front of house.  You do this.  You do that.  You go here.  You go there. 

I pretended my knee didn’t hurt and just did it.  

I might be regretting that a little bit now, but what’s a girl to do? 

Last night and tonight, I got to be “on” with guests.  I greeted lots of people, shook a lot of hands, got hugs from some amazing friends, and did what I love to do.

It was a fun night.

It was funny because two separate parties came in and already knew that my knee was fucked.  I have no idea how, but they asked me about it, before they had a chance to see me hobble around the floor.  

One of our guests tonight was Hot Daddy Doctor.  A server gave him this nickname.  He is a doctor.  He has two kids.  And he’s hot.  His wife is even hotter.  

He asked about my knee and by the time he’d left, he spoken to two friends who are surgeons in town and I’m supposed to call this week to see if they can pick up the speed on getting me in for a replacement.  Fingers crossed.  

He asked for my cell number tonight, so that he could text me their information.  Many of our guests have my number. 

He came up to me at the end of the meal, gave me a hug and made me promise to call his friends.  The then reminded me not send any dick pics his way.  

I laughed and told him that I’d just tell Adam I was dumping him for a rich doctor.  He told me he’d have to ask his wife first.  

I will call this week. 

I’ve gotten off the topic, but thing that amazed me tonight was that I’m the 2^nd oldest employee in the building.  A bartender is a couple of years older than me.

However, 85% of the staff is 30 years or more younger than me.

Meanwhile, I’m running around like an Olympic athlete and my 12-year old staff is moving at a snails pace. At least a dozen times I asked people to try and walk at least as fast as I was walking.  

Now I have to pour another bourbon and swallow an entire bottle of Tylenol.

See you boys and girls tomorrow.  

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It was a long day today.

I got to work early to make up for being late on Wednesday.  

I stopped by the new restaurant to see the progress. It is a disaster zone, but you can definitely see progress.  

The bar is gone, the ceiling in the bar has been raised.  

We are selling the bar if anyone would like to buy it.  

The new walk-in has been framed.

The floors in the restaurant downstairs have been pulled and new subfloor has been installed. This restaurant, flooded with about 10 inches of water during the storm right before Xmas.  

There was a backhoe in the parking lot getting rid of the overgrown bushes.  

The fireplace in the entry is gone along with the chimney because it was in such disrepair.

The whole place has been cleaned, which is great because the restaurant was disgusting when I first saw it.  

I saw all of this and I was only there about 4 minutes.

Get to work and dive in head first.  

At 4:00, I was almost caught up from vacation. Emails answered. Phone calls returned.  

30 seconds later, we opened the doors for service.  

And we were busy. Not just for January. But we were busy.  

I hobbled around all night, chatting with the guests. Lots of questions about the new space. Even more questions about the trip to Argentina. And EVEN MORE questions about why I’m hobbling around.

Everyone offered suggestions.

Accupunture? Tried it.  

This salve? Yeap.

That drug. Yes.  

CBD. Done it.

Essential oils. Of course.

Cortisone. Absolutely. 

One guest insists that I call the private clinic he used for his hip.  

I’ve never been able to find a polite way to tell someone that just because I work in the town I work in, and live in the town I live in, I am just a restaurant GM. The only way I could use a private clinic is if I won the lottery tonight. And I’m pretty sure Adam would have told me if we did.  

This comes up mostly when I mention that we live in the cape. Oh, do you have ocean views. Yes. I own a 5 million dollar home on the ocean, and I really only work here because I got bored from being rich.  

I have committed myself to not letting my knee slow me down at work.  

I realized last night, at 10:00, that the reason my knee was insufferable, was because I hadn’t taken any Tylenol all night.

I assigned members of my staff tonight to remind me take it. I also set alarms on my phone as additional back up.

The truth is, complaining doesn’t help anyone, especially not me. 

The highlight of the night was that four tables moved from the dining room to the bar at 9:30. At 10:00 there were still 14 people seated at the bar.  

At 11:00 there were still 8 people.

At 11:30, table 11 was still there. They left around 11:45.  

I’m not that late getting finished in July.

Not to mention that I’m beat. I’m tried. And I’m ready for bed.  

I got home around 12:45.  

It’s 1:35, and since there are no photos to post tonight, getting an entry done will take about 6 more minutes.  

I want to be asleep by 2:00.  

Thank you everyone for traveling to Argentina with me. I really appreciated the comments and concern.  

Stay tuned as we start a new year of hospitality and travel.

Be well all!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I went back to work on Wednesday.

How did my day start?

I turned over, thinking, I probably have to get up soon.

I look at my phone and it was 12:20.

I have to be up no later than 11:55 to be on time.

I have to be in my car no later than 12:15 to be on time.

I got to work 30 minutes late for my first day back from vacation.

And of course, everyone was there when I got there. Most day’s I’m the first to arrive.

Then, I settle in to return the 53 phone calls I have, and I can’t connect to the internet. I spend an hour trying to get logged in.

I finally give up.

And that’s about 5 minutes before the staff shows up early, to undecorate for Xmas and reset the dining room.

Without blinking it’s 5:00 and time to open the doors.

And then at 2:00 in the morning we get our first survey of the new year.

I’m convinced the woman who wrote it was drunk. It was insane and probably will set the tone for the whole year.

Here’s what it said.

Jeff was simply the best!!! Our table was beautiful and had the perfect setting for a relaxing meal. The food was amazing. Truly, this restaurant has the best service and the food exceeded expectations!

She had to be drunk!!!

It’s going to jinx the whole year.

The Homecoming!!!

It’s Sunday.  Time to go home. 

I sleep late.  

Adam goes in search of a couple of gifts at the mall.

He wakes me up when he gets home.  

I had asked him to look for the bar towels all the restaurants used that have a bright red and blue stripe on them.  I think they are fun.  

He was walking down the street and a girl comes up to him, selling them on the street.  He tried to buy them all but she said no, and only sold him 6.  I was still excited.  

He also shared, that he’d bought more wine.  

WTF?

It’s around 2:00 and the day is quickly passing.

We shower and get dressed. 

We stop and have lunch and then it’s off to the Casa Rosado.  The Pink House.   Of Eva Peron fame.  

We spend 6 dollars getting there.  

We take about 6 photos.

Then we spend 6 dollars getting home.  

We make one last stop for coffee and a snack.  

Then it’s home to pack. 

We are really concerned about the weight of the suitcases with all of the wine bottles.  

We cart everything downstairs and get started.  

It takes a while, but an hour later, all the wine, all the clothes, and the gifts, all the shoes, all the toiletries have a home in a bag. Adam guesses they are all around 45 pounds. 

It’s 7:00.  We have 30 minutes till we need to be in an Uber to the airport.  

At 7:15, I order an Uber.

At 7:35 we are starting to get worried as no one has picked up our ride.

Finally, we get a notice that Gerardo is on his way.

He pulls up and is immediately concerned about the size of the 4 bags we need to get to the airport.  We assure him they’ll fit and 6 minutes later the car is loaded and we are off.

30 seconds into the ride and we discover we have a talker.  I don’t mind this.  Adam less so. 

He starts with are we here on business or pleasure.  

I explain that it’s both and why we are here.  

He then asks where we are from.  

I tell him Maine and now he gets going, wanting to know if we live near Stephen King, if we eat lobster, if the food is good et.  

He then starts listing all the big restaurants in BA wanting to know if we’ve gone to them.  As he asks, he tells us his opinion.  Great.  Over rated.  Tourist trap.  Excellent food, bad service.  Bad food, excellent service.  

He tells us that if it were a weekday, he’d never have picked us up because of the traffic getting back into the city.  

We find out that he owns a web development company, but he drives more now since he doesn’t have a lot of clients any more.  

He doesn’t stop talking the entire 40-minute trip.  I actually love it.  

At one point, he tells us that the only food he eats that comes from the water is pasta.  

Adam leans over and tells me to write that down.  

We get to the airport, we say our goodbyes, I tip him 40% of the tab and give him a rave review.

We head into the airport, get checked in.  Holding our breath that our bags aren’t too heavy.  

Whew.  They’ve all been placed on the belt.  They are disappearing.  No one said a word.

We head toward security and run into Chef and his brother, and his family.  They’ve all come to see us off.

We end up in a small café in the airport, with coffee and snacks.  

The clock is ticking and Adam is starting to get worried.  

Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

Finally, we head up the escalator to security.  

His mom takes all of our photos as we move upstairs.

The stand watching us move in the security line until we turn the corner and we all wave goodbye.  

It’s now me, Adam, Chef and his brother.  

The line is moving, albeit slowly.  

It’s forced into a single line and we inch forward.

Finally we are at security. 

It’s the laxest airport security I’ve been through since 9/11.  They don’t scan us, they just send us through a metal detector.  We don’t take off our shoes.

We get through, put our belts on and our computers away, and then move to another line, going more slowly to go through immigration.  

It’s about 40 minutes before the flight, when we are through and headed to the gate.  

We have exactly enough time to grab a beer and a water, and then they start boarding.

However, they have announced that you can bring no liquids on board.  Meaning the water that Adam bought me for the flight, now has be consumed before we board.  

They also have a team hand checking all the carry on bags.  They search my back pack, meanwhile they just ask Adam if he has any liquids.  

We finally walk down the hall to the plane.

We are greeted by the world’s oldest airline staff.  The team taking care of coach were all born in the 50’s and all of them were men.  The staff member, on our side was a GRUMPY old man.  He was rude to the guy sitting next to us, who was trying to stow his carry on.  All three of us were looking at each other thinking what the fuck is this.

However, once the plane was boarded, and the doors closes, he sat down in his seat across from us, and had tons of questions about where we were from, where we were headed, etc. 

We get settled, the plane takes off, 10 minutes early, and we are told we are well ahead of schedule. 

The flight goes off without a hitch until 2:38.  I know it was 2:38 because when we were awakened by turbulence that makes the news, I looked at my watch and said, is this when I die.  For about 20 seconds the plane bounced up and down and back and forth.  When it was over, everyone was awake and the whole plane was buzzing.  

30 minutes later, everyone was asleep again.  

Adam was breathing deeply next to me.  

I dozed off and on all night.   

Around 7:00 they served the worst breakfast in the history of breakfasts.  I had a cup of coffee and an orange juice.

FUN FACT:  I’m allergic to citrus fruits.  I learned this in high school, but it was confirmed after college when I had a back reaction to orange juice.  I’m allergic to limes the least, lemons next and oranges the most.  However, I love oranges and I LOVE orange juice.  I allow myself one small glass a year.  On Christmas morning.  We didn’t have any this year on Christmas, so I treated myself on the plane.

In small doses, it make my lips numb and I get all sinusy.  

Back to the story.  Breakfast is served.

And I repeat my comment from a week ago, that people who put the blinds up while others are trying to sleep are the WORST.

We are told to buckle up and the plane lands early.  

We get through immigration and customs and we are now in NYC.  With a four hour layover.

Chef however, had driven to NYC and actually picked up his truck and was home three hours before us.

We tried to find breakfast or lunch.  However, the only restaurant open, only had 3 breakfast items on its menu and they wouldn’t serve lunch for another 90 minutes.  We ended up with a better breakfast than the plane but not by much.  The service was lovely which made up for it. 

Finally, it’s time to board. 

We get on the plane, the doors are closed, and we are told we can only have beverages upon request.  And we never see another flight attendant until we land.  Once again, I’m as dehydrated as you can me.  

We are now in Boston.  It’s 2:00.  We get our bags, and rush to the bus station.  

But now we have to wait until 2:45.  

We sit in the cold waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting.  

The Portland bus appears and we are so, so, so grateful.  

We get on.  We choose our seats.  

It’s almost 3:00 and we are on our last leg of the trip.

As soon as we board, the driver makes an announcement, saying that there are no phone calls allowed as no one wants to listen to you talk on the phone.  There are other things she shares, all with a sense of humor and as soon as she puts the mike down, a phone rings and a woman two rows in front of us answers.  

And we learn that she is speaking to JoAnne.  And that her flight got in an hour early, so she’ll be getting to Portland early.  She doesn’t know if Jeff can pick her up but she’ll wait in the lobby of the bus station is he is not there.

They say their goodbyes.

She hangs up.

Then Jeff calls.  She has the same conversation with Jeff.  She tells him she has spoken to JoAnne and that her bus is early, because her flight was early, and that she’ll wait in the lobby of the bus station.  

She has 5 more of these conversations in the next hour.  Oblivious to the fact that we aren’t suppose to be on the phone.  I thought she might have missed the announcement but on one of the calls, she told the person that she wasn’t supposed to be on the phone and so needed to keep the call short.  

We pull into the bus station.  We collect our bags.

Adam leaves me on the sidewalk to get the car.  

It’s 5:10 and we are on our way home.  

We make quick stop at the grocery store for dinner.

And it’s 5:45 when we pull into the garage.  

Exactly 24 hours since we got into the Uber to start our journey home.

We had a wonderful trip.  It was beyond our expectations.

But 4 hours later as we sit down for dinner on the couch we looked at each other and both said, we were very glad to be home.

The Casa Rosado!!!

It won’t be easy, you’ll think it strange
When I try to explain how I feel
That I still need your love after all that I’ve done

Our last marienda.

Our bags are packed.

One last photo before we say our goodbyes.

Up, Up and Away!!!

Having fun in the security line.

Time to head home…

Adam is down there someplace.

We brought all the wine home. Don’t tell customs. Super excited about the 3 liter bottle of Aperol.

God that’s GOOD!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Saturday is here.  Our last full day in the land of summer, wine and beef.  

I wake up earlier than expected, because for the first time in 4 days, my knee did not ache all night.  

It’s 1:30, the other side of the bed is empty.  I’m aware that Adam isn’t in the apartment.

We’d talked about him going to get a suitcase and going to the wine store.  

I’m lying on the couch when he comes home.  With wine and suitcase in tow.  

He’s carrying a ton of bags.  He even has a three-litre bottle of Aperol in his possession. 

He drops everything, and then goes out to get lunch.  

He’s back we eat and try to watch a movie, but I can’t get comfortable.  

He ends up watching Drag Race on his I-pad and I nap.  

Around 6:30 we agree that since it’s our last night, we should go back to Tres Monos, the monkey bar.  

We end up leaving the apartment around 7:30 and get to the bar about 10 minutes later. 

We are seated at a table this time, as we’ve told them we’ll be one and done.  

Once again, we are started with shots.  This time, I ask what it is.  It is a rum based drink, but doesn’t seem to be too strong.  

We order, our server tonight, is the bartender from the night before who I think looks like my friend.  Up close not at all, but from 15 feet away, the resemblance is there.  

We get our drinks and enjoy the last warm summer evening of our trip.  

Around 8:45 we pay and head to the restaurant, for our 9:30 reservation.  Did we mention that people eat late here.  

We get to the restaurant and Chef and his family are already there.  They have bubbles in their hand and we are asked if we’d like some.  Seems that many restaurants give complimentary champagne/prosecco to their waiting guests so that the wait doesn’t seem as long.  Kind of like Disney, and their line management, only for adults.  

We all chat and hang out, waiting for our reservation.

About 9:35 a man in a chef’s coat appears and we are all introduced.  He’s come to welcome us, and to make sure that we have a great time.

A bit of backstory, Chef knows the owner of the restaurant, not close but enough for him to reach out for a reservation.  They are booked months in advance.  

Our hellos are said, and then we are invited to walk to the next block.  

None of us quite know what’s going on, but walk we do.  

At the next corner, it is explained that the restaurant runs a community garden.  The gate is opened and we go up a few steps and it truly is amazing.  There are plants everywhere, compost bins, tools, etc.  

The chef explains that it started a little less than 2-years ago.  The park used to be a place for the homeless to hang out, and wasn’t developed.  They got permission from the city, and turned it into a working garden.  It is too small to actually serve the restaurant, but local residents volunteer and then are given the vegetables that grow there. 

We hang out for about 20 minutes, looking at everything, and then are escorted across the street to their butcher shop.  

It looks like a tiny store front, but when you go in, it’s as clean as a lab.  There is white tile and a door to a walk in.  He explains that they work here, every day till around midnight, cutting, trimming and prepping the meat that they sell.  

The walk in is a glorious site.  It’s packed within an inch of its life with meat, meat and more meat.  There are entire racks of beef ribs hanging in the center.  We are stunned when he says that we can go in and take photos.  

We are there about 30 minutes, and then are walked back to the restaurant.  

The chef, hands us over to a new team member and he goes back to the kitchen.

The new guy, it turns out, is the sommelier for the restaurant.  He escorts us downstairs to the wine cellar.  

I was overwhelmed the minute we entered.  

He tells us that there are over 15,000 bottles of wine housed here.  The oldest from 1922.  Adam saw a bottle from 1956 on the shelf.  The sommelier explains that they serve about 350 bottles of wine an evening.  

I was talking to a bartender at work tonight, and realized that there is not much of a cocktail culture there.  Only a few times did we start with cocktails, and most of the time they were spritzes.  Also, only a couple of the restaurants actually had bars that served guests.  Most of the time, the kitchen was the focus of the restaurant, and not a bar.  

We learn more about the wine cellar, and then are invited into a private dining room that is also part of the wine cellar where we are treated to a wine tasting.  The wine was delicious, and we can’t believe the extent they are going to, to make sure we have a great time.

It’s approaching 11:00 and we haven’t even sat for dinner. 

We are taken back upstairs, seated and the chef reappears to see if we want to order from the menu, or just have him send things out to us.  

There is the start of a discussion, and I interject and say, anytime I chef wants to just send you food, always, always, always take that option.  

We were not disappointed.  

The table is amazing, and has genuine leather table runners as placemats.  

We were started with tomatoes, prosciutto and bread.  

Turns out every diner is started with whole tomatoes, cut into 4ths salted and are fucking delicious.  

Next came apps including sweetbreads, blood sausage, roasted red peppers and tomato carpaccio.    

Then came the first round of entrees.  

Skirt steak, so tender that you could cut it with a fork, cooked a perfect medium rare.  Except for Chef’s mom who only eats steak well done.  We were served a tomato salad as a side, and we start to wonder if ever course gets tomatoes.  

The next course is served and three perfectly cooked ribeyes appear and are carved table side.  These steaks are even more delicious than the skirt steak. 

We are finished with a crepe filled with dulce de leche and oh, my, what a perfect end. 

We get coffees all around.  

It’s approaching 1:00 a.m. when the check is delivered.  

It truly was the only way to cap the end of a glorious week.  The meal was as close to perfection as one could hope.  

20 minutes later, Chef drops us off at our apartment, and I’m grateful that I didn’t have to walk.

One more sleep, and we’ll be on our way home.   

Tres Monos!!

Adam enjoying his cocktail.

Shots! Shots! Shots!

Yummy cocktails.

Chef’s family and me.

The community garden.

Beautiful mural.

Entrance to the butcher shop.

Free Champagne

Wine tasting.

15,000 bottles of wine. They do inventory twice a year.

Tomato storage.

Tomatoes hanging above our table.

Wooden chimi bowls.

Busser cleans the table with a towel and a dust pan.

Tiny ice buckets.

Wine glasses with the tiniest stems ever.

Leather table runner/placemats.

Another Open’ Another Show!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

The days are winding down.  Our trip is coming to an end.  

It’s Friday and we only have two more nights to enjoy in Buenos Aires.  

My knee is still shot.  It kept me awake all night on Thursday night into Friday.  In fact, around 5:30 I took a pain pill my doctor prescribed and it didn’t touch the pain.  Around 7:30, I took another and finally went to sleep.  

The worst part, was that we had to be up early on Friday.  

We were going site seeing.  

First stop, Recoleta Cemetary.  We’d been looking forward to this for a while.  

It is stunningly beautiful, in its decay and formalness, and sadness, and reverence.  

All of the graves are marked with mausoleums.  Some very simple, with a single urn.  Others are clearly meant to mark the importance of the family.  

At one point Adam mentioned that it could be a study in textures as no two graves were alike.  They had marble, stucco, brick, limestone, a mix of all, some were deteriorating as they were so old, others looked like they’d been built yesterday.  

The cemetery is still in use and families are still burying their loved ones there.  The newest date I saw was 2006.  

It’s also interesting because many of the mausoleums have glass doors and you can see the casket sitting on a pedestal.  Or you can see 17 urns positioned on a shelf.

Some of them, had live plants, not unlike you’d decorate a grave in the south and we watched a caretaker, move around watering the plants.  

Also, all of the graves, had very steep stairs that went below ground and it was very, very, very creepy.  The whole place looked like the scene from a vampire movie.  

We eventually found Evita Peron’s grave.  It was much simpler than I thought it would be.  It was a site with the entire Peron family.  We paid our respects and moved on.  

From there, Adam and I took an Uber to the Teatro Colon.  The National Theater of Buenos Aires, their grand opera house.  We’d booked a tour at 3:00.  

I should say, that at this point, my knee is cooperating.  It hurts but I’m managing.  

The theater is beautiful.  Named after Christopher Columbus.  It is the National Opera House.  

It seats 3,000 people, all though it was later clarified that 500 of those seats are in the fourth and fifth balcony and are standing room only, although you are permitted to bring your own chair.  

We also learned that a few years ago, it was ranked number 1 in the world for acoustics beating out all the other major opera houses in the world.  

There are lots of other fun facts but I’ll include the comments in the photos.  

We wrapped up the tour, disappointed that we couldn’t see backstage, as it was the same size as the house, and the design areas, went three stories below level and employeed 1,500 employees year round.  Boo.

We headed home and on the way decided to head back to the wine bar from day 1.  

https://www.pain-et-vin.com/home

We showered, got dressed and headed out.  This was a good choice, because it was literally four blocks from our apartment, and I could waddle there.  

We joked when we got there, that the marienda was becoming our favorite meal of the day. 

We were seated, and ordered a bottle of wine to share and an assortment of snacks.  Some charcuterie, grilled carrots, venison tartar (which was delicious), and bread with cheese.  

We enjoyed it all, but mostly it was nice just to sit and relax in the air conditioning enjoying each other’s company.  

We finished up, paid the check and then Adam decided he wanted to buy some wine to take home with us.  The next thing I know I’m being handed 7 bottles of wine to help carry back to our apartment.  

We get back and continue to just hang out and relax.  

We discuss going to another bar for a pre-dinner drink but decide to have the drink after dinner.  

Around 8:45, we put our shoes back on, and head to the restaurant.  

Once again, it’s about 6 blocks away, and I hobble there.  

We arrive, and Chef and his friend are already enjoying a drink on the sidewalk while waiting for our table.  They had taken our idea, and stopped at the bar we wanted to go to and had a pre-dinner drink.  

At 9:30 we are seated for dinner on the patio.  It is a gorgeously, warm night.  And it’s the perfect temperature to be outside with the breeze that is blowing.  As with all the restaurants, it is a scene.  There are probably 30 people waiting for a table just hanging out and every table on the patio is seated.  

https://www.instagram.com/elpreferidodepalermo/

If you want to look it up.  

It is a well-known restaurant in the area for locals and tourists alike.  

We were seated promptly at 9:30. We were greeted promptly, given menus by the server, which is often the case and that was the last prompt thing that happened all night. 

It is not unusual in BA to signal your waiter that you need something.  I saw people snap, call out, raise their hand, and yell.  The snapping was my favorite, because I know how much I hate it.  

But.  

After about 15 minutes, Chef signals that we want to order drinks and we do. And they come.  But no one has asked if we want water, still or con gas.  I NEED WATER!!! – CON GAS!!!

After about 15 more minutes, Chef signals that we need something, and asks if we can get water.  When the water comes, we let them know we are only going to be 4 as his friend’s wife was supposed to be there and I’ve come to the conclusion they are waiting for the table to be complete to serve us.  

The water arrives and sometime after that, we order.  

It’s really not a complicated order.  We aren’t even ordering all the things.  It’s 5 apps, 4 entrees, 2 sides.  Relatively, simple considering what we’ve been doing, by literally order 7 appetizers and an assortment of entrees.  

A few minutes later, the apps arrive.  Well, most of them.  4 of them arrive.  All of them but mine.  I don’t say anything, there is plenty of food. 

We eat the apps, finish them up, and then our plates are cleared.

This would be a good time, to say that our server has a trainee.  She is very sweet, but the most nervous person I’ve ever seen try to wait tables.  So, so, so nervous.  

Our apps are gone and then the entrees arrive.

Fun fact, they have put empty entrée plates in front of us.  Then they bring the entrees out plated, on a large oval tray, and then transfer the entrée to the new plate in front of the guest.  All one handed with two forks.  One hand is holding the tray, the other is dishing out entrees.  

All of our food is served, and chef uses this opportunity to ask about my appetizer.  The server is surprised that we didn’t get it.  Hmmm.  It arrives 45 seconds later.  I don’t say anything, but my mashed potatoes are nowhere to be found eiter, and never do arrive.  

Once again, there is plenty of food and I don’t really need them.  In fact, I only ordered them at Chef’s suggestion.  

I should say, that the food is all excellent.  Well prepared, well-seasoned, but the service….

We finish up dinner and once again, our plates are cleared.  

What happens next is something to see. We’ve seen it over and over again while in Buenos Aires.  The staff uses tweezers to detail the table.  To whisk a dirty bev nap into the pocket.  To pick up a piece of bread.  It’s quick and mesmerizing to watch them work with their tweezers.  

The table is cleared, dessert menus are presented.  

We order dessert and coffee.  It’s 11:30. Two hours after we were seated.  The entire meal could have been executed in 90 minutes if we’d been served properly.  

I mention this, because at midnight, we still don’t have our dessert, and we still don’t have our coffee.  At one point the trainee, comes to the table and asks if we are good and if we need anything else.  Chef says that we are great, but we’d be better with the dessert and coffee, we ordered. 

This doesn’t speed things ups.  It finally arrives at 12:15. 

By the way, the restaurant is still on a wait at this time.  

By the time we finish dessert, and pay the check it’s going on 1:00 a.m.

This is by far the worst service we’ve had in Buenos Aires, which is sad, because the food was really good.  

We all say our goodbyes, give each other hugs and Adam and I head home.  

By way of a detour to The Three Monkey Bar aka Tres Monos.  

We’d discovered the bar last weekend, when we were looking for a place to eat on New Year’s Day.  We’d not had an opportunity to stop and check it out but since it was on the way home, stop we did.

We get there and just like every other restaurant bar, it’s packed.  We check in and they won’t have a table for at least 45 minutes.  They do offer to let us order at a counter at the window or sit on a bench around a tree.  We choose the tree and get settled.

Before we’ve even looked at the drink menu, a server walks up and hands us two shot glasses to start.  We say what the fuck, bottoms up and enjoy it.  It’s my first shot in three years.  

It’s rum based, we find out later, and not really very boozy.  It tastes great, and they use it as a way to start the experience. 

We order cocktails.  For me a boulevardier variation on their menu.  For Adam something I don’t remember.

They come about 6 or 7 minutes later and are quite delicious. 

It really is a scene here.  Every table on the patio is full.  The bar inside is full.  I’m watching the bartender through the window and from behind she looks just like an old employee of mine named Tara.  The pony tail, and the same gestures.  

This bar:  https://3monos.com.ar/bar/   Adam also found the bar listed on several sites as one of the top 100 bars in the world.  It really was great.  

We hang out on the bench until around 2:30. We pay our bill and head home.  

It’s late when we get there, and for the first time since coming to Buenos Aires, I skip my daily post and by 3:30, we are fast asleep.  

And for the first time in three days, I sleep, without aid, without pain, without struggle. 

It was late on Saturday, when I finally woke up.  

Me at the entrance to the Cemetery.

The textures are amazing!

Evita’s Grave

Full coffins in view.

Steps to the abyss.

President from 1983 to 1989

My favorite statue

The Gold Room at the Teatro de Colon based on Versailles.

The auditorium with the fire curtain in.

The orchestra pit.

The middle of the first balcony is for dignitaries. The top level is standing room only.

A rolex Clock!

Three architects worked on the theater, resulting in multiple types of architecture.

Masquerade. Paper faces on parade.

The seats are original. They have been reupholstered. They are quite large for the time. Much larger than American seats.

There is a hidden room above the chandelier where choirs can sing as ghostly elements.

Widows would sit int he boxes here unseen by the audience. They couldn’t see the action but they could hear the music. Ad

Adam about to enjoy some wine.

Venison carpaccio.

You can buy these for soda water in the grocery stores. I love it.

Drinks after dinner at Tres Ones.

People waiting for dinner at 11:30.

Interesting bathroom sink.

You Can’t Stop the Beat!!!

You can’t stop the BEAT!!!

I slept late.  Very, very late.  

My knee had bothered me all night.  

Luckily, we had nothing planned until 7:00.  

I slept late, moved from the bed, downstairs to the couch, so that I could elevate my knee.

Eventually I joined Adam at the pool.  

It was a beautiful day, and the pool was warm.  It was supposed to be heated but all week it had been on the cool side of heated.  Today, it felt like a warm bath.  

We got some sun, swam for a while, till the ache in my knee drove me upstairs.  

Back to the couch I went. 

Adam joined me, changed clothes, and went off in search of a suitcase.  He wants to take home Argentine wines, because they are stupidly inexpensive here, and terribly delicious.  

I hang out on the couch dozing.  

He shows up around 5:30, with no suitcase, but he did bring lunch.  I won’t go into what he brought back, but it could have fed 40 people.  He was trying to understand the menu and got confused and came back with a shopping bag full of food.  We eat about 1/16 of it and then get ready for the evening.  

Chef is picking us up at 6:15 and we have an appointment at 7:00.  

We get there at 6:45, and Chef goes to park.  

We get buzzed in, and up the stairs we go, and we find ourselves, in the first sommelier school in Argentina.  It was opened 20 years ago, by a woman chef worked with in his 20’s.  He’d reached out to her, to say hi, but to also arrange a wine tasting for all of us. 

The owner, Marina appears, and we are given a quick tour.  The space is amazing.  We are led down a short hall and find ourselves in one of 4 tasting rooms.  We all chat and enjoy the conversation and then the tasting starts.  

In all, it was about 3 hours, and we tasted 4 wines.  It could have been much shorter, but we kept getting off on other subjects.  Mine and Adam’s history.  Chatting about the restaurant business in the states.  Discussing hospitality in Buenos Aires.  Discussing the regions and areas that produce wine in Argentina.  We had a long discussion about the drinking habits of the people in Buenos Aires, and it seems wine consumption is down significantly in the past 20 years.  The history of the school but mostly, it was a wonderful way to spend the evening, while eating snacks and drinking wine.  

It was also very educational, for someone who needs to know about Argentine wines on a day-to-day basis. 

Around 9:30 we started to wrap things up as Chef, Adam and I tried to figure out where we were having dinner.  It’s 10:00 on Thursday night, we don’t have a reservation and after the fiasco from the night before we want to know that we are getting good food.  

As we are discussing this, Marina gets on her phone and starts texting friends.  In 30 seconds, we have a reservation at a Peruvian restaurant not far from our house.  

We all kiss and say our goodbyes, and we are off.  

Adam and I are expecting a tiny little restaurant on a corner somewhere.  

When we pull up, it’s like a night club.  There are lights.  There are a million people.  There is music.  It is a definitely a scene.  It’s 10:30 at night and clearly, they are just getting started.  

The restaurant is called La Mar.  https://lamarcebicheria.com.ar/nueva/index.html

Chef goes to the host stand, and it’s obviously, they are expecting us.  We are taken to our table right in the middle of the action.  

The restaurant is amazing.  There is a bar built around a hug tree in on the patio.  There are seats around another huge tree.  There are tables everywhere and there are probably 30 or 40 people waiting to be seated.  

Within 2 seconds of being seated, the General Manager stops by to welcome us, to let us know if we need anything to ask for him.  He’s off.  The server arrives and as always, flat or still.  

We order water and cocktails.  They arrive. 

Then chef speaks to the server in Spanish.  He orders an assortment of appetizers for us and then a seafood mixed grill.  

Did I mention that this is a Peruvian restaurant?  Neither Adam nor I have ever dined at a Peruvian restaurant.  It is 99.999% seafood.  Of a million different varieties.  

First, we get a sushi roll, with shrimp, avocado, and mango.

That is followed by a mixed seafood ceviche with the catch of the day, squid, octopus, shrimp, red onion and sweet potatoes.   Then next was the catch of the day, avocado, capers, cilantro, leche de tigre, which is the citrus base, spicy marinade used to cure fish in ceviche.  

This is followed up by a seafood mix grill on a large grill.  It had octopus, the catch of the day (they never told us what it was) shrimp, scallops, calamari etc.  It was smoky and delicious.  

The meal was terrific, and Adam and I are sold on Peruvian food.  

Three or four days before this, over dinner, we were chatting about places that might be fun to explore in Buenos Aires.  Chef mentioned a secret bar called Uptown.  He had shown us videos of it, and it looked crazy.  It’s called Uptown, because you must take a “subway” to the Bronx to get there.  He had no idea where it was, but we chatted about it a couple of times.

What would you know that when Adam and I were waiting for Chef to join us from parking the car, we kept seeing people coming up from below the street via a set of stairs.  I sent Adam to investigate, and we’d found the bar. 

http://www.uptownba.com

After dinner, the GM escorted us to the entrance, and 30 seconds later, the three of us were standing in the middle of night club, with music pounding, a crowd of people, and we were clearly older by 50 years.  

That being said, we had fun.  We pushed our way to the bar and tried to get drinks.  It took   a while because they were making craft cocktails, to order.  Chef finally ordered, we get our drinks and wander around.  Into the library.  Out to watch the DJ.  It’s a mix of men and women but it really appeared to be 1/3 women, 2/3 men.  And it was clear, that a number of the men were couples, which was great to see.  

We stayed for a little longer than one drink and then called it a night.  

It’s now going on 2:00 and I’m beat, and my knee is starting to crank.  

When we got home, I realized it was way too late to start a post, so we went straight to bed.  I was asleep by 3:00 a.m.

Me waiting to be buzzed in to the Sommelier School.

Chef and I waiting for the tasting to start.

The wall of wine bottles in the lobby.

Adam checking out the bottles.

The tasting room.

Wine storage behind the tasting room.

Chef admiring the inventory.

Marina pours the next taste.

Marina was presented with a cookbook to thank her for the tasting.

The restaurant. The bar is wrapped around the large tree in the middle.

Pisco Sours.

A delicious Manhattan. Accompanied by a tiny bucket of ice, which is always the case if you want ice for your drink.

Sushi. Avocado and Shrimp.

Ceviche with Sweet potato. Not as strange as it sounds.

More ceviche.

A grilled seafood, Mix Grill. All the fishes.

The secret entrance.

Headed uptown to The Bronx.

Chef in the subway tunnel.

Adam and I waiting for the uptown train.

We jumped the turnstile because we couldn’t find our metro cards.

The outside of the subway car.

Inside the subway cars.

Chef waiting to order us drinks.

The staff doing shots instead of making our drinks. Adam discovered that they change the bar staff every time they do a shot.

Adam and Chef waiting for drinks.

A corner of the library.

It’s a privilege to pee!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

I’m behind, I’m behind, I’m behind.

We got home very late last night (Thursday) and I came home and went straight to bed.  More about that tomorrow. 

Let’s get back to Wednesday. 

I wake up Wednesday and my knee has exploded.  Worse than it’s been since it started flaring up.  On a pain scale of 1 to 10 it is a 12+.  

By the time I make it downstairs, I’m near tears.  

I am on the couch with my knee elevated, with a Ziploc bag full of ice on it and trying to get comfortable, to no avail.  At this point the pain is so intense, that it feels like it’s spreading down my shin, like shin splints.  

It’s SOOOOO bad.  

I tell Adam that I’m not going anywhere.  At least not till later.  

He tells me that he is going to go look for a suitcase, get us lunch, and will be right back.  We’ve decided on pizza for lunch.  It’s about 3:45 when he leaves.  

He is gone about 30 minutes when Chef texts to say that he is done with his errands and can pick us up at any time.  Like now. 

I suggest 5:00 and he agrees.  

I text Adam and tell him he needs to come home soon as Chef is going to be picking us up at 5:00.  

Adam gets home at 4:35 with a pizza in tow.  We both have one slice, then start to get ready.  I limp up the stairs, shower and get dressed.  It is not fun.

We make it downstairs at 5:05.  I let Chef know that I am NOT up for walking today.  

We suggest we stop at a bar called Tres Monos.  Three Monkeys.  A cocktail bar near our house.  

Chef has a better idea.  He wants to go to one of the ritziest hotels in town to look around and have cocktails.  

I like this because we initially chatted about me staying there when we were first looking to book my stay.  

Off we go.  

The hotel is called Faena.  Faena.com

It is a 5-star Forbes rated hotel, started in Buenos Aires.  They now have another location in Miami.  

To say it’s over the top would be an understatement.  

I didn’t take any photos of the staff as it felt rude.  

But, when we arrived, we were greeted by a man in a top hat and white cape who welcomed us to the hotel.  It felt a lot like Disney World.  

Later there was a woman, hosting at the cabaret, who had a tiny hat perched on the side of her head and she was wearing a skin tight red dress with heels.  

We go in and the space is insane.  Beautiful and undeniably original.  

The entry way is all stone with plants that leads to a VERY long hallway with a long red carpet with benches that are illuminated from below.  

We wander down the hall, taking it all in.  There is a shoe store that would have been a favorite of Carrie Bradshaw. 

That restrooms and not hidden, but if you didn’t know where to look, you’d never find them.  They are all marble inside.  

Chef stops by their fine dining restaurant, which is closed at that time to see if we can look at the dining room.  

It is exquisite.

After wandering around, we go into the bar to get a drink.  We are offered seats inside, where no one is sitting or poolside.

It’s a beautiful day, so we take poolside.  

Almost every, lounge chair is filled with people sitting by the pool.  Not so much sunning as they are drinking and socializing.  

We are seated at a 4-top at the shallow end of the pool.  

We order drinks and snacks, and people watch for the next 90 minutes. 

The staff is as beautiful as the pool.  

Mostly though, we are just enjoy the evening air, as the sun sets and people begin to leave.  

I know I’ve mentioned it, but they are permanently on Daylight Saving Time, so it’s 7:30 and it is still daylight out.  

Finally, we pay out tab, and take one more look around the hallway.

Now, the really formal dining room is open and is white and red.  Stunning.  

Then we peak into the cabaret and it’s ALL red.  No photos but it’s a great space.  

With that we take our leave and are on our way to find dinner.  

This is the tricky part. 

We haven’t made reservations.   And we are not sure where to go.  

Chef texts some friends including his mom and we end up down at the seaport.  

We’ve been given two options.  I make the decision based on the name.  

I won’t mention it here, because I don’t want to give a bad public review.  But it is the 2^nd worst meal we had.  

I didn’t say anything night of but turns out Chef agreed.  

It reminded me of a mall restaurant.  Or a tourist restaurant.  

The space was huge.  Easily seating over 200 people.  The lighting was bad.  The dining room we sat in had atrium windows ala Wendy’s 1986.  

If I’d been a server at this restaurant, I’d have been 15 years younger than the next youngest server. 

For a tourist restaurant, the prices were reasonable, and the food wasn’t bad.  It was all just fine.  Kind of like Olive Garden is just fine.  Or Outback is just fine.  Nothing is wrong with it, until you compare it to the 5-star meals we’ve been getting. 

This was also the first restaurant we ate at where the food was served from the plate it was on, to the plate you’d eat it from.  All done with one hand, while holding the plate on a tray in the other.  

That being said, the service was fine, we had a great time, and it was something to experience.  

Later, I told Adam it was like eating at The Big Texas in Amarillo.  Great to do once, but not necessary to do every time you visit.  

With that, I hobbled back to the car, Chef dropped us at our apartment, and that was my night.  

A view of the pool at Faena.

The crown in the pool.

The deck at the pool.

The marble sink in the men’s restroom.

You can walk completely around it.

Pate!!!

Chandeliers over the bar.

VERY expensive shoes in this store.

Large dining table in the meat focused restaurant.

A better view of the crown.

The bench in which you sit in order to enjoy the view of the crown.

Even the urinals are a work of art at Faena.

Chandelier over the bar.

The more formal restaurant done in White’s and Reds. Every table has its own rug.

You can’t tell from the photos bur the unicorn has red glowing eyes.

I love the hallway. And the benches lit from beneath.

The restroom doors. You’d never notice them.

Neon next to the cabaret.

A photo of Eva Peron advertising shoes.

Architecture near the seaport.

The red buildings are like the mills in Biddeford that have been redeveloped for retail/dining.

An evening stroll.

The high rises in downtown.

Chef and I enjoying the evening.

Full rack of beef ribs smoking on the Asador.

All the apps again. Blood sausage, sweet breads and chorizo.

They had fried cheese on the menu. It desperately needed ranch dressing.

GOAT its what’s for dinner.

Dessert. The glass is a vanilla type ice cream with a shot of whiskey. It was delicious.

A first. The urinals had a container with little tissues to wipe your peep when you were finished.

What knows what pleasure was in store if I only had Argentine coins.

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun!!! 4 to be exact.

I’d like to speak to the Manager!!!

I was up late last night. Between the throbbing of the knee and the writing, the formatting photos and being tired, it took a while to get to bed.

When I woke up, Adam wanted to know why I didn’t post before I came to bed.

Funny story.

Facebook doesn’t like it when I upload 50 photos. So it sits there, churning.

What I have discovered is the photos are there, but I can’t see them, unless I publish the post that isn’t quite ready to be published. So I hit publish, change the audience to just me and finish editing.

Last night, I never changed the audience back to public.

Whoops.

So that my friends is why you didn’t see a post this morning.

Now on to yesterday.

I have been up late almost every night since we got here. As a result, I’ve been sleeping very late.

As Adam pointed out there will be no jet lag as our schedules haven’t changed.

What’s interesting, is that Adam has been sleeping very late as well. At home he is usually up by 10:00 no matter how late we go to bed. Yesterday it was 12:30 and he was still beside me.

Around 1:00 he told me he was going to the pool.

I said great, turned over and went back to sleep.

At 2:00, I got up, got dressed and joined him at the pool.

I was there for about 60 minutes. It was warm, but the wind was blowing fierce, so it wasn’t super comfortable.

Around 3:30 we went back upstairs.

Adam went to get lunch.

I’ve been forbidden to tell you where he went, but it starts with a B and ends with a G.

It was delicious and perfectly hit the spot.

We’d just finished eating, when Chef texted that he’d be there to pick us up around 5:00.

We showered, got dressed and were downstairs promptly at 5:00.

Chef picked us up and we decided to try and go to Evita’s grave in the center of town.

Every time, I think about it, I hear the end of the play, about the body disappearing and the pedestal being started but never finished.

We get to the cemetery, park and walk to the entrance to discover that it closes at 5:30. It’s 5:32.

Damn it.

Chef checks in to find out the hours etc. and then we decide to walk a bit.

At the time my knee is okay. Not great, but okay.

We end up stopping for a rest at a hotel who’s name I don’t remember. The lobby is old school. Luxury. Masculine. We get seated and order grown up drinks. A Manhattan for me, which made me very happy. It was also very cold and VERY good.

We stay for about an hour then get moving again.

I’m not sure of the name of the area of town we are in, but it is very wealthy. The stores are Hermes and Rolex. The houses are mansions, and we pass several consulates. including that of the Pope and the Vatican.

We walk buy the French Embassy, which is stunning. The US embassy is some barricade, brown concrete monstrosity that looks like it was from the Cold War.

At the French Embasssy, we turn right and head down the hill.

We arrive at the Four Seasons.

They have a restaurant, that is called Nuestro Secreto, Our Secret.

It’s not really a secret, but it is on the patio on the 2nd floor, by the pool.

It is also gorgeous. It’s the most formal place we’ve eaten yet, and the food was perfection.

We are greeted by the most amazing androgynous person, in a green suit who is wonderful. They are nice, and we are pretty sure was the manager on duty. We all wanted to be their friend.

One thing we noticed, when we sat down, was that we were not presented with menus. We were given a QR code to scan. It might be because I am old, but I don’t like it. Not at all.

I want to hold the menu. Study it. Take a photo of it. Plus, what if I forget my phone, or don’t have a phone, or didn’t pay for the service in a foreign country. Hmmm.

The meal starts as they all do. Sparkling or Flat.

Chef and Adam always get Flat.

I always get sparkling, or as they say, aqua con gas.

We order apps. They tend to be the same every time as Chef is getting a feel for how others prepare the food we do. Blood sausage, sweet breads, empanadas.

We order entrees. Chef gets a ribeye. Adam and I are going to share the skirt steak.

30 seconds after the server leaves, Chef sees a long bone short ribs being put on the grill. He calls the server over and asks if they were a special. She says not, they are on the menu.

He goes on the realize that on the menu, they were referred to as braised short ribs. And these are clearly not braised. They are slow cooked over an open grill, but not braised. He immediately changes his order to the short ribs.

The server also offeres to show us where they are cooked. She leads us to the patio and there is an ASADOR, off to the side, but still near everything, where whole racks of beef ribs are being smoked. It’s a beautiful sight.

We get back to the table as the apps are being served.

Everything is delicious.

By now the restaurant is filling up and getting busier. There are also seats on the patio served from this kitchen. We are all admiring how efficient the two men in the kitchen are at executing service for the restaurant.

Apps are cleared. Entrees are served.

The long bone short rib is divine. Smoky. Tender. Falling off the bone, melt in your mouth goodness. The skirt steak is tender enough to cut it with a fork. Everything is excellent.

We literally eat everything in sight, and our plates are cleared.

Chef gets up to go to the restroom we think, and we contemplate dessert.

Chef comes back, dessert and coffee is ordered and Chef tells us that he had spoken to the chef and asked him to come by the table when he was not busy.

We are eating dessert when the other Chef arrives. He introduces himself and my Chef begins to speak with him in Spanish.

I now knownwhat was being said.

Chef was asking him if he’d be interested in coming to America to work at our restaurant. Seriously, the chef from this restaurant was excellent. Chef eventually gave him his card, told him he’d be in town until Sunday and that if he was interested would like to speak with him and his co-worker about working in the states.

Hands were shaken and off he went.

Who knows if anything will come of it, but the offer was made.

We finish up. We pay.

And then I need to stop at the restroom.

When I come out, I can’t find my boyfriend and that’s because he and Chef and have wondered into Le Mansion, that is part of the Four Seasons. I join them and the home is stunning. Large, ornate and beautiful. We stay just long enough to not get in trouble then make our way to the street.

Then Chef does the kindest thing ever, he tells me I can wait and he’ll walk back and get the car.

Seriously, I could have fallen over. By this time, my knee is on fire again.

Adam and I sit in the lobby and admire how awful the lighting is, and how the Xmas tree looks like it was decorated by the maintenance team.

Then we move outside and in about 5 minutes are picked up.

And 15 minutes later we are home.

Me trying to break into a cemetery.

Chef trying to break out of the cemetery.

The lobby bar of a hotel, where we stopped for drinks. I can’t remember the name of it. Adam loved the red jackets, I expected Dolly Levi to appear at the top of a flight of stairs at any moment.

My first Manhattan in BA.

Architecture along our walk.

This is definitely haunted.

A beautiful Entry to a single family home.

The Pope’s house in Buenos Aires. And embassy.

The French Embassy.

Adam and me in front of the French Embassy.

La Mansion

Horse statues playing in the water in front of the 4 Seasons.

A Christmas Tree made of horse shoes.

The atrium of the dining room we were eating in.

A full rack of long bone short ribs being cooked in the Asador.

More long bones.

The usual suspect. Octopus, sweet breads and empanadas.

Yumminess.

Chef is very happy.

Seriously, melt in your mouth goodness.

Finally a good skirt steak.

I never get tired of coffee here.

The grand staircase at the mansion.

One of 6 fireplaces we saw.

The lighting in the lobby is as white as the oscars.

The Christmas Tree looks like it was decorated by the maintenance team.

Horse statues at night, playing in the water.