Talkin' Shit About A Pretty Sunset

I could get used to this country, Argentina. All I've done is lounge around in restaurants, eating steaks the size of my head, watched a polo match, wandered around antique shops, smoked Lucky Strikes, and drank sparkling wine; and I don't think we've broken the $200 mark yet.

The polo match was surprisingly fun. The crowds are very sedate and civilized: no shouting or cheering---just hanging out and watching men and beasts battle each other on lush green grass. Beforehand, we hung out in a white linen tent for two hours getting "ready" for the match by swilling bottles of bubbly. I might as well have 10 days of being bourgeois; I'll never get it back home. You know how right-wingers always say, "If you don't like the US, then leave."? Well, I might just take them up on that.

"El Campo de Polo", right in the middle of the city.


The beasts of the game.


I've felt like this marionette at times.


This'll be me when I'm a 65 year old ex-pat.