Confidence Game

This is a TMI alert. For those of you who sometimes find yourself saying “Why did he/she have to tell me that? Now I can’t unknow that” you may regret reading this blog.

Today was the first day of class. In some ways, I felt like a kid again. For most people this phrase intones a good thing. I don’t know how you recall being a kid- much of what I recall was a frustrating lack of confidence and ability. It seems reasonable to me now that kids are so wedded to things that are familiar. I, myself, am wondering how long it will be before the Burger King on the walk home piques my desire for something familiar, even if that something familiar is terrible compared to the standard lunch fare in Buenos Aires.

Confidence is a funny thing. Many people would say I normally have too much. Not being able to communicate definitely knocks you down a few notches. Perhaps that is why I am so fond of the gym I joined. All the equipment works the same in English and Spanish and when I go there, there is precious little chance for confusion.

The Spanish teacher today was an exceptionally attractive woman. While this was still distracting, it wasn’t as much fun as it might have been due to my experience of nearly insurmountable inadequacy with the language. Again, it takes me back to being 14 years old, when attractive women were just something god put out there on the horizon to taunt you with. Her clothes were tight enough that it reminded me of biking with fit women in spandex. Normally it is fun when you are close enough to estimate the standing wave frequency of the bounce in such a woman’s posterior. Perhaps I will get to take data for that research paper someday. There is certainly a lot to be said for being at home with your own woman. But the possibility for adventure in my own, expanded, 820 square feet of castle is somewhat limited.

At least my nose is no longer dripping like an Argentine faucet. In case you haven’t experience the difference, plumbing here doesn’t just drip, it runs in streams. I expect this is a combination of ready access to cheap (or perhaps free) water and Argentines not being as compulsive as me. Well comparing people’s compulsiveness to my own sets too high a bar. I suspect the initial dripping of a faucet doesn’t bug your average Argentine as quickly as it would your typical American.

I experimented with three different anti-histamines and Afrin before things were under control. I ran out of handkerchiefs and didn’t want to use up the host families entire stock of toilet paper, not to mention waste bin space. So I started using boxer briefs from my laundry bag to wipe my nose. Like you never thought of it, they already have to be laundered. You just have to use the inches closest to the waist band to keep your nose out of contact with any material that may have been in contact with one’s dainty parts.

At any rate, I can breath.  Now if I could just speak!