Escandaloso = Scandalous

Adult is a relative term.

This is about all things scandalous and when I say scandalous (since we really only have one of these stories) I mean all things adult. So, if you are not an adult, which is to say you are either pre-menstrual or can't grow a modicum of hair on your upper lip (that's you Gordon), you might want to ask a parent for permission. Note: When refering to penne in this post I am not referencing the cut of pasta used for many a wonderful Italian dish, but rather a certain member of the male species.

Beth's battle with vegetarianism--I mean Beth's plight in finding vegetarian cuisine in a mainly beef eating country, has been more farcical and comical than I could have imagined. Instead of being outraged, indignant, or even simply baffled, people have tended towards a genuine, if innoncent, curiousity--picture Beth as the traveling circus and the Argentines as the small town people starring in wonderment. This has led to the regular assortment of questions, such as: Why? How come? How do you not starve? and, What do you end up eating? The other day, however, was the first (besides from the Heaven's Gate Vegans Beth worked with) in which we received a question regarding sex, and from her cousin's husband, no less.

As we were enjoying our Roquefort and 3 cheese pizzas, Beth's cousin's husband, Jose--who speaks Portuguese, Guayarni (the biggest native Paraguayan Indian tribe) and Spanish, but almost no English, asks his wife Jenny a question. She burst out laughing and then attempts to interpret the question, or rather series of questions, which goes something like this: "If you do not eat meat, how do you have sex? Must Jason dress up his penne? Paint it different colors? Wear a costume? Make it look like a vegetable?" At which point the entire table turns its creative attention to my penne. Many wonderful suggestions were made to help fool Beth into thinking that she is and will continue to be a vegetarian, including painting my penne orange to resemble a carrot, giving him a green skin to mimick the cucumber (not sure if this was a veiled reference to contraceptives) and creating a costume to dress him up as a zuchinni--my only solace in this discussion was that no one came up with the idea of using papas fritas, or french fries, as a possible disguise. Ironically enough, in this Catholic of Countries, abstinence was not mentioned once as a possible source of vegetarianism.

Not my penne.

That was the scandalous story, this is one of brilliance, kind of. It's hot here, miserably hot in the summer. Beer gets hot quick, like take-it-out-of-the-fridge-and-five-minutes-later-you-have-beer-tea hot. (note: beers here are sold in 1.5 liter bottles. Basically everyone here drinks 40's, which is another reason I love the place.) So, they designed a portable beer cooler, which looks something like an ice cream maker, acts like a keg, all the while enabling the consumption of cold beer, outdoors in the oppressive heat. Kind of Amazing.

How it works is that you connect two 1.5 liter bottles of beer to the top of the outside. you fill the inside with ice, you then pump the beer through a series of tightly wound coils that are surrounded by ice, which render the beer ice cold when it spits out at the other end of the Chopp and into your glass. Brilliant. I was thinking of investing in a bunch of these to bring back to the states and help pay for this trip, but I'm convinced this product is going to land on an as-seen-on-t.v. ad in the next few years or that the development of a 5 ounce beer will render it completely uselees (in conjunction with the more conventional beer cooler, of course). Either way, it's been a source of great pleasure for both of us so far, as you can see.

Yeah, that's right, Budweiser. I want Quilmes, Brahma, even Inebeck, her family wants Budweiser. Not that I'm complaining.

Lastly, because there are no more adult stories to share, periods are not called periods here. No, when you are on that time of the month you are on your "days." Which they have conveniently and creatively titled their brand of tampons, as well. Oh, and ano is not to be confused with año, one is anus the other is year. So, if you are like me and forget the enye (ñ) you might accidentally tell someone happy birthanus instead of happy birthday; though I'm not sure if that is offensive, I'm pretty sure it has the potential to be.

Sweat Meter: High, but for the Chopp, which gives me momentary respite from my internal heater, meaning it gets me buzzed. I sweat the same, I just don't know it...