Día de la muerte de Kátie

I literally thought I was going to die the fourth night I was here. My glands were so swollen I couldn't move my neck. I had chills because I had a fever. I couldn't see the light. 

After a minor break down in the international office trying to communicate in Spanish my imminent death, I was told that the doctors made home visits. Literally, ambulances come to your house just so they can prescribe you some of them fine drugs.

I was sort of livid because I had called my doctor before I left on this trip to see if she could give me a z-pack in the event that this did happen to me, but no. 

I really did try to self medicate the first two days upon feeling ill. Thank goodness I had my netty pot, lemons, garlic, and salt water to gargle. 

I don't even think it was the throat part that was so terrible. The fact that there is no central heating, and all of the windows have huge cracks and it's 30 degrees outside on top of having a fever was probably when I lost all hope. All I needed was a big fat antibiotic and I was okay. 

Needless to say, if I ever need medical attention again, I can handle it in Spanish. 

Cuando me enamoro

Estoy enamorada con el conductor de mi colectivo. 

I am in love with my bus driver. I have taken the bus at least twenty times since the first and only sighting, but I still have hope in seeing him again so I can just gaze into the bus' review mirror. 

One night at dinner I decided to reveal my burning passion for our N5 bus driver, and I said that he was "guapisimo" upon which I was chided for the incorrect use of the word. Apparently no one uses "guapo" in this part of the Latin American world. No. "Guapo" is for Mexico only. "Lindo." 

Replace "tu" with "vos." 

Replace fine wine with Fernet. 

My whole life has been a lie. 

Desorden y desorganizado

The most comical every day scene on the streets of Córdoba is the array of various displays of transportation. I have not yet ventured to take out my phone and snap a quick photo in fear of being robbed, kidnapped, and thrown into the nearby river, but this photo is on my list, believe me. I can't help but let out a heartily obnoxious chortle every time I see this unusual occurrence. 

Let me paint the picture for you. Aside from the three lanes actually being used as four and a half lanes, the traffic flow is constantly in motion, and you squeak with fearing insistence of the barely making it preservation of human life as you run to cross the street. 

These are the vehicles in order of appearance: 

Motorbike

Honda CR-V

Car from the 70's 

Car from the 40's 

Horse racing down the street pulling a cart

Brand new BMW

Every time I see the horse pulling a cart at 20 mph in high traffic, I just want to yell "Lightening! Copperhead! Swedish meatballs!" at the top of my lungs and clap my hands.

Spanish class in America

That one time when you took four years of Latin as a child and then three Spanish grammar and two Spanish literature in college and then went to Argentina and realized that five Spanish classes just wasn't going to cut it. That was my first day. But I was also recovering from the travel at the same time so I'm not sure how mentally with it I was anyways. 

And then I sampled the local drink and could see the new Jerusalem. 

Como se dice "hinge"

For some reason, the door to my room fell off the only hinge it was on. I understand that the wind is howling outside and all, but this door is an inside hall room door. After I shoved the almost balsa wood door back into and onto the door frame,  the door became only slightly loose and proceeded to bang obnoxiously as the wind rhythmically sucked its way through the house. And it's like 3am on a Sunday night.

Salchicha

It is 5:30am, and I literally danced Merengue, Salsa, y Cuartato the entire night. And now, as I attempt to fall asleep at 6am, the dog that is yelping next door better be being eaten alive or slaughtered. Heck, find me a nice boulder, mound of dirt, or machete.

I used to like dogs. Emphasis on the past tense.

First things first: leaving the airport in Merica

Much to my anticipation, my suitcase was 20 lbs over the weight limit. I only had one suitcase, but I blame the weight on the Texas tea towel souvenirs and Chacos. Thankfully I had packed a backpack in my suitcase so I was able to quickly transfer some of the weight from my suitcase.

Transferred items:
Shoes
Salt and pepper shakers
Southern Living magazine
Twine

I think the weight was in shoes. Looks like I'll be leaving most of those here.

So there you have it, after a frantic panic leaving the airport. My theory is that since my suitcase weighed more than half of what I actually weigh, and other people probably weigh 2-3 times the weight of the suitcase, I shouldn't have to be penalized because my clothes weigh more than I do. Fat people...  I mean, what's the difference in weighing 115 pounds and my suitcase being 70 pounds, and other people's suitcases weighing 50 pounds and weighing 160 plus? A good 25 something pounds still heavier than my weight. I mean it's not like I have an opinion about this nickel and dime or pound exceeding scenario or anything.