Live From Buenos Aires, Vol. III
Yesterday afternoon, while strolling down Avenida Cabildo, I stopped into a peluqueria for a recorte (beard trim). She did a decent job, after which she asked me if I wanted anything else cut. I told her no, that I would finish shaving at home. Unfortunately, the word for home (casa) can also mean to get married.
She starts to beam and then says felicidades, congratulating me, and gives me a kiss. She then yelled something I couldn’t understand to the rest of the shop and several women congratulated me and came up to me, smiling and kissing my cheek.
I was a bit confused but didn’t want to seem COMPLETELY un-Argentinean, so I said gracias to everyone.
Only after I left did I realize they were wishing me luck on my impending marriage. Sorry, Princess, Buenos Aires has spoken.