Confessions of a Drama Queen

After discussing with Jackson the length of time we will be spending in Buenos Aires, I came to realize that I'm a spoiled, American woman. I might at times go as far as saying princess. Living in Chicago, I would have never considered myself to be spoiled or a princess. There are definitely people in the USA who would win the prince/princess yearly award over me. In our own ways , we all become spoiled royalties when we step on foreign soil. Take the movie Sex and the City, when in Mexico, Charlotte carried chocolate pudding in her purse because she was afraid to drink and eat in Mexico. This is a clear example of fear and princess-material, but most americans are afraid to crap in their pants if they drink faucet water in a foreign country. I'm not like Charlotte in that aspect. However, two weeks in Buenos Aires has made me think of all the luxuries I once took for granted.

I confess, I'm not completely comfortable living her yet. There are too many things I miss and I hate that I do. Not only have I turned into a spoiled princess but I've turned into the person who can't stop talking about her hometown. I'm not carrying chocolate pudding in my purse but I am missing how with the push of a button, I can get Mr. Barkys, Patanol, Allegra, a great hair cut with Paige and even thumb tacks. Even laundry becomes an issue. In Chicago or any city in America, you go to a laundry mat or if you're lucky you have a washer and dryer at home....I wasn't that spoiled as to have a washer/dryer. But here, I could be wrong because I still have to investigate this further, you take your clothes to what looks like a laundry mat so that someone else does it for you. Now here is where more of the spoiled Erika comes in play. If your like me, I have specific ways of doing laundry. I don't like completely drying my jeans because they shrink, this goes for my t-shirts as well. There are certain fragrances of laundry detergent that I cannot stand. In other words I'm picky. So yes, I confess that silly things like this diverts my excited and enthusiasm of Buenos Aires. I confess that the dog shit and crap on the streets drives me completely insane and overprotective of my dog who by the way used to have the bad habit of eating things on the streets. I confess that the walking chimneys is irritating my throat and worsening my allergies. I confess, I'm afraid that the pollution is going to turn my lungs black...of course, I'm exaggerating. I confess that I'm not thrilled with the buses. The trains, FANTASTIC!!! Buses not so much. I believe this opinion will be debunked once I've figured out the routes. I confess, I don't want to use el voseo. I want to keep my peruvian roots alive. And if peruanos say chompa than for crying out loud why can I not say it. Okay , I admit that's over the top because I can't ask for a chompa if that's not what they call it here. I think you get the gist though. My confessions have opened a door I was too scared to go through. But, I will courageously walk through it. I'll put my confessions in my backpack and continue on this journey. I don't know if my walking shoes will take me to two years but I guess only time will tell.