Argentinian celebrity

Haha, my little drunk rant... I can't even remember not getting service at the bar :P OK, so last night I was indeed drunk. But I never made it to the Peruvian club... don't know if that is a bad thing or not. I actually don't even know how I ended up being where I was anyway... which was in the staff-only section of the same club I was in the night before that I didn't really like. Except last night it was fun.

We walked there from the hostel after I downed a particularly large quantity of 2x1 Happy Hour drinks which I get for 1/2 price as staff, so it is literally 4x1 - DANGEROUS - and an aborted attempt at hooking up with an Aryan-looking Scotsman (probably a good thing) due to other people being in the dorm. He didn't come out, also probably a good thing as it left me open to flirt with all n sundry.

At the club we got VIP treatment, I think the people I was with knew the owners or something... and we danced in our own little section next to the bar while I got drink after drink, and never once opened my wallet. Or boob. Wherever I keep my money these days in an attempt not to lose it. I am literally at the point of not taking ANYTHING with me when I go out, and stuffing a few notes in my bra. Just hopeless.

At one stage we were upstairs where no one else was... another time I was dancing somewhere else. I really don't know what happened, but I had fun. I know that much at least. Then I was dancing with this Argo guy who people kept telling me was a celebrity. Cool. Celebrity means nothing to me in another country. Even KNOWING the celebrity is a celebrity makes little difference to me. Are they hot? Can they dance? These are the questions most potent to me. He was probably just Argentina's version of Toadie from Neighbours anyway.

Pretty sure I didn't kiss anyone. Pretty sure. But I woke up in the bed I had just stripped post-hair fumigation, having wanted to move up a bunk to fresh sheets. The cleaners must have thought I was a madwoman when they came in to freshen the room in the morning. God only knows what hideous state I was in.

The next day I was woken by a knocking on the door... which I ignored, as the last time I thought I heard knocking and it was nothing, and everyone in the room thought I was mental. So I assumed it was nothing. Then the door opened and in came the Israeli guy who had promised to buy me a massage the day before, telling me it was time to go. Did I still want the massage? Hell fucking yes. So I stumbled out of bed to his exclamation, "You look terrible!" Thanks mate. Love you too.

So here I was thinking I would drift into a gentle slumber as the woman caressed my oily body... not the case. She was a woman on a mission, hands flying everywhere like a masseuse possessed! I enjoyed it but it was a little hectic at times... and no chance of drifting off. But hey, I am NOT complaining. It was a professional massage. For free. Boom.

Afterwards, I was going to go back to bed but a few girls were going walking to get "the best steak sandwich in Argentina"... I had to see this for myself. So I joined them, and we went down to the nature reserve - accidentally created, I am told, from people throwing their waste like concrete blocks into the river and in doing so, creating a new habitat for fish and birds... ha! Argentina...

The steak sandwich was good, but it was a big sandwich and even now my stomach is full. I swear I have put on some serious kgs being in Buenos Aires. No mas empanadas!!! But they're so good....................