american pride

Very quickly. Yesterday I went to see the Andy Warhol exhibit the Americans at the modern art museum (MALBA), located in the ritzy Palermo Botanico neighborhood.
The show was what it is--I think this was my third time seeing it. However, my heart swelled with a powerful mixture of acute homesickness and raw pride. I felt this funny sense of ownership, not so much over the soup cans as I did over the images of Nancy Reagan. These are my people, I thought. It is really something to experience images of your own country from abroad.
Afterwards I went to a traditional Parilla with Lea (my friend from Denmark) and several other new friends from Holland. Parillas are an Argentinian staple-restaurants serving mainly meat and pasta. The main part though is the barbequed meat, so much meat. We ordered a Parillada completa which was recommended for 3. Served on small charcoaly grills on a wooden block, the parillada contains every cut of beef along with blood sausage and chicken and I think pork sausage. It was my first time with blood sausage. The taste, unlike the texture was quite lovely.I don´t know what is not to like about the taste of blood. There were four of us, and we could not finish. The couple to our left had no problem devouring the same portion.This was at around midnight, the time when most people eat or start to eat. I suppose it is how they can eat nothing but sugary bread in the morning.