COLECTIVO NOOOO!!!!!! Hair blow out

Wednesday September 19th 2007

The wind blowing outside caused the door to the caliphone to bang all night. Another noise that I could not quite place, but sounded like a 50-foot giant twisting his rubber shoes in the middle of the street while scratching a chalk board kept me up for most the night. I was able to catch two hours of sleep before the birds, One’s chirps sounding like a huge water drop and the whistling colectivos woke me up again. Then I decided to give up on sleep. It’s almost two weeks since I have arrived in Buenos Aires. Even though I am not comfortable here yet, I have never felt more beautiful or desired by the male species. It’s only been a week and five days and I have already gotten five proposals for dates. Though most of them were weird. Hopefully I will find someone I will want to bite back, but right now nothing nada. I finally became familiar with the collectivos and took them about four times in one day by myself. It was very hard for me to test them out. I had a small panic attack before I left the house. That hasn’t happened to me since I was younger and my attacks were worse. I refused for this stupid fear to get the best of me. I had made an appontment to get my hair blown out across town. I informed Nestor about my fear so he wrote a note for me to show the driver to advise me when my stop came up. Nestor felt bad that my eleven-pound package of hair products did not come so that I would be able to do my hair myself. So he was kind enough to help me book my hair appointment because the hairdresser did not speak English.
One thing I would like to change about myself is the way I demonize things I don’t understand. It’s a prejudice attitude really. I did not quite understand how the collectivos worked. So to me they looked like evil circus trolleys, waiting to get me lost and confused. When the time came to get on that bus for my appointment I got on. I showed the driver my little note. He was a kind man with a mean face and croucho marxs eye brows. He advised me to sit next to him so he can tell me when to get off. I watched what streets and avenues the bus turned on to myself as well so I would know how to figure it out next time. It was a success. I got off at the right stop, my hair was blown out nice and straight, and I was able to get on the right bus going back home. I had to go to a friend’s dinner later on that night and was going to take a taxi but when she told me it was a fifth-teen peso ride I decided to atemped the bus again. I did get loss and get off at the wrong stop. I had to walk twelve blocks back to my friends’ house. I was able to get back home safely so that is all that matters.