Here are some items for consumption in my apartment currently.

1.

I never really have cravings for potato chips, but apparently Max does (This does not extend to sweet potato chips, however. Mmm). These are actually more like rice chips, maybe? You know the sort of light, puffed air, white and orange tinged things that they put in a basket before your appetizer at Thai restaurants? They don’t really taste like anything, except for a hint of fish, and yet they are really addictive? These chips had that texture, if not the flavor. The flavor was sort of a slightly spicy sour cream and onion. My guess would be that even the specialty Lay’s flavors have to use whatever crazy chemicals are already in stock. Kind of like this bizarre experiment, but without the taste bud confusion. Anyway, they weren’t bad, and for less than 3 pesos a bag, I might bump that up to “above average.”

2.

You read that right. Tomato marmelade. Max, who has, in my opinion, an unnatural loathing of tomatoes, thinks this is really excellent. So thus everyone must love it, clearly. It’s sweet, but not too sweet, and tomatoes have the right sort of texture for jams, it seems, as they don’t get too mushy. I suppose you want to know who Don Lorenzo is. I would as well, but am not feeling like researching at the moment. We found it at the Feria de Mataderos, where they had many other marmelades on crackers, and we could have as many as we wanted. And one jar is 5 pesos, two for 9, and three for 13! I really might have to smuggle back several jars, including their dulce de leche, which I have been eating by the large spoonful. Speaking of which…

3.

Bailey’s pales in comparison. This is insanely sweet, creamy, and tasting of caramel, where Irish cream doesn’t really have a distinct flavor. And this bottle, as the label states, is spiked with anise seed, making it slightly spicy and oh, so yummy. You can drink it out of the bottle, but adding a shot of milk turns it into liquid candy. A couple we know jokingly suggested that they give it to their children to help them sleep. I still want to mix it with coffee to make a caramel macchiato type of thing. And there are so many other liquors to try! We got this one at the smaller fair in San Isidro for 12 pesos, and we have to go back soon to get more. Not just the other dulce de leche varieties (with coconut!), but strawberry, peach, limoncello…getting drunk never tasted so good.

4.

Okay, so this isn’t a food, per se, but we have been drinking it with boiling water, so that at least gives it the beverage qualification, right? Anyway, I find the concept really amusing. I mean, imagine the meeting where the executives are discussing this. Aspirin is great and all, but just imagine mixing in some caffeine or vitamin C! Consumers love hybrid products! Just look at peanut butter and jelly in the same jar, ketchup and mustard in the same bottle, the entire corn dog/pigs in a blanket concept! And hey, the idea has endless possibilities. Aspirin and diet pills, aspirin and birth control, aspirin and bubble gum! Apparently the company is just a Bayer subsidiary, but it seems uniquely Argentinian to me. With all the beef, dairy, pork, etc. consumption (usually all at the same time; let’s hear it for the milanesa completa!), a constant intake of aspirin is probably necessary to prevent a massive coronary.

Really, any superpower would have helped me on Saturday. After all, isn’t it a common trope to have the hero save some hapless victim from a robbery?

Max and I were walking to museums on Avenida del Libertador, and accidentally skewed right onto a different street that passes by the law school. We noticed that we were on the wrong street, but we saw the giant flower in the distance and wanted to take a picture. Suddenly, we felt something wet. And sticky. And smelly. And green. It was my worst idle nightmare from living in the city for years. A pigeon letting loose onto clean clothing and hair. I always wondered if my office would accept that as a fair excuse for showing up late for work. I mean, it must happen to people every so often. Right?

A pair of women came up to us and offered water and tissues to help clean up. In fact, they physically cleaned us, vigorously wiping and soaking and well, distracting, as you clever readers have no doubt guessed already. Max was terribly sweet and was just thinking of getting me clean. I too, knew that he really wanted to see the museums and taking a cab back would be a waste of time. This went unspoken, and we focused on cleaning. The women kept making comments about the importance of cleaning right away and using proper techniques, and since they were older, I took this as motherly advice. Bear in mind that they kept us turned towards the street the entire time, moved our heads to look for hair stains, and tried to take off my purse once. Max took off his jacket and sweater, and, sadly, his camera bag. They walked off with his beautiful, expensive, SLR wonder of a camera, and his credit card, and we realized the loss a second too late

(Please offer support to Max on his site. He is really upset, and will be asking for donations soon. Even a few centavos would be a generous gesture to make him feel better.)

We tried going into the law building to ask about cameras, and even went so far as to fill out a police report, but it will likely be in vain. The tourist police officer was super-nice, in comparison to the utterly patronizing regular police officers who kept patting me on the shoulder and telling me to calm down. I sort of wanted to punch them. I feel incredibly stupid, especially because I had read about this same trick on a government fact sheet before leaving the country. So here is another warning to add to the pile. It makes me think that the U.S. idea of personal space is a better idea. I mean, in what situation is it okay for perfect strangers to touch you all over? (Insert dirty joke here, kids) We are adults; we could have cleaned ourselves. Instead, they cleaned us out. Ouch. I might have to retract that last little play on words.

And finally, a different sort of warning entirely, and one really unrelated to Argentina. Stay away from this:

Seriously, it is the worst toothpaste conceivable. It falls off the toothbrush. It doesn’t foam up well, if that makes any sense, and remains chunky. However, what made it utterly wretched was the flavor. Apparently, peppermint to the max! means to the point of pain. Not dentist-cleaning pain. This is somehow worse, a searing and frozen experience. It lasted forever because I didn’t want to waste money on more toothpaste, but since I couldn’t brush for more than thirty seconds at a time, my teeth probably suffered doubly. I haven’t used enough Jason products to condemn the whole company, but the painful memories are going to prove difficult to forget. Anyway, the lesson here is personal space and toothpaste without punctuation. Clearly.