There is much Italian influence in the Buenos Aires. I’ve noticed that many portenos, or native Argentinans, have an Italian appearance. Also, when I hear the older men talk, I’m reminded of the cadence of the Sicilians in the Godfather. The wine is superb here. Unfortunately for us, they make really bad pizza.
As I walked through Carlos Thays Park in Palermo yesterday, the inevitable happened. After passing ten different cats in styles of repose on the lawn, he found me. A kitten. He was talking to a couple of young girls when I walked past. Once the girls decided to continue walking, what did I see stumbling after my feet? A little ball of dusty black fur and sky blue eyes.
I bent down as he pawed at my slippers. He mewed and cried at me. Narcissistically, I came to the conclusion that he wanted to be picked up and cuddled. After some dainty cooing and coddling, I came to the depressing realization that he was just plain hungry and saw me as as a reliant source of food. I had no choice but to put him down and purposefully stride away, hearing him mew in the distance.
As I left the park, I noticed caretakers setting out dishes of food and water near the entrance. I didn’t feel quite so bad. I’ll just keep repeating this mantra.