My day so far has consisted of: being handed a cerrated knife and a plate for no apparent reason by the part-time housekeeper, being asked questions about my life when I'm not even able to spell my own name due to being asleep while awake, and having to pee so bad I couldn't see straight and realizing that the only bathroom was occupied via a shower.
I've been up for 20 minutes.
On a food note, when the custom is to have only a piece of toast and jam and coffee for breakfast, you turn into a food hoarder. Not trusting the eventuality of lunch, you take food whenever it is presented to you. This may be a bit of an exaggeration but in adjusting to Argentina, I have to say, I miss my eggs and orange juice for breakfast, and not being handed knives by housekeepers. I am not a morning person, as my mother will vigorously vouch for, and being asked to hold even a small conversation (in any language) is my idea of breakfast torture, a conversational hold up with words.
Now I am waiting for the shower to be vacated by Pepin, my host dad.
Livin the life
besitos
-j
my sympathies to your host family!
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