Mr. Handsome

I've never entered a beauty contest before unless you count all of those second-place finishes I won playing Monopoly.  Until recently.  And even for this contest, I had no idea that I was a contestant.

During the most recent school assembly over at the colegio, the students announced the results of a school-wide survey.  Category 1 : Most Handsome Teacher.  What is this ? Then I heard my name, what ?!

I realized that contests of beauty were more important in this part of the world that say, anywhere else in the world, but I would never have thought that the kids here voted on which teachers they thought the best-looking (There was also an award for best-looking female teacher, which went to a tall blonde American).

Looks like all of that collagen that I shoved in my lips and the buttock augmentation really did the trick !

[Written in 2012]

In Your Country...

In Europe, mostly along the Southern and Eastern fringes, there exists some confusion.  Is IKEA from Switzerland ?, does Sweden make chocolate ?, do moose and reindeer pose a threat to those who ski in the Alps ?

In South America, there is no such confusion. Everyone agrees that the wonderful country of Swedzerland is a rich, politically neutral North Central European nation.  They make safe cars and noisy clocks, but their greatest invention, in the culinary realm, is obviously the chocolate moose.

Part of this misunderstanding is due to names.  These two countries have very similar names in Spanish : Suiza and Suecia...which is which ?  My Colombian ID labeled me as Swiss from Suiza.

The other part of the misunderstanding is that South Americans are notoriously bad at geography.  It apparently runs in the hemisphere. One man asked me if France was next to Argentina.  If you squint.

Recently, when crossing the border between Bolivia and Argentina, the official took a look at my Swedish passport, written in Swedish, English, and French.

''Ahh, your country is Swedzerland ?''

''No, no, Sweden, Suecia...Suueeciaaa.''

''Okay, Swedzerland,'' and he starts typing my new home nation onto his keyboard.

''No, not Suiza. Suecia.  Vengo de Suecia. Ese Oo Ay C E Ahhh.''

South Americans are generally very friendly and are eager to start up conversation with foreigners.  But it's at this point in the conversation that most give up.

''Pauline, how is France doing during the crisis?''

''And Andrei, is it very cold in, uh, in your country ?''

The Second Coming of the Blog

After four months of traveling in Colombia, the States, Peru, Bolivia, and now Argentina, I think I have gathered a enough stories to jump start the comatose blog.  I still have a few stories unfinished from the Colombian and Venezuelan era, which may have to be inserted as flashbacks.

So as long as I have reliable internet service, I'll try to put up a new article every week or so.  Hope you enjoy them...

Drop That Spoon !!!

Latin men have a certain reputation around the world as seducers and lovers.  Pauline met one in the gym.

She was just finishing her workout, and on her way out, she stepped on the scale.  He saw his opportunity, he made his move.

You see, between a month in Florida (including Thanksgiving) and her above-average height, Pauline weighs more than most 45-kilo stick-thin Colombianas.

So the passing Latin lover asked her, romantically, if she could please step back on the scale.  And don't forget to re-zero the scale, baby.  Casanovas of the world, watch and learn.

Upon seeing her weight, he turned up the charm, licked his lips, and told her she really should leave the spoon alone.  Oh yeah, he was in the groove now.  Like Wilt Chamberlain in his prime.

Pauline, somehow able to resist his charms, left the gym.  As if Pepe Le Pew could be deterred so easily. He followed the scent.

When Pauline veered toward the supermarket, he told her, his voice heavy with lust, Really, you don't need to go in there, it's full of food.  Sorry Don Juan, this one's mine.

Incredulously, she entered the supermarket.

He wandered off, wounded, wondering if he should change his tactics.  Just then, he figured it all out : she must be a dyke !  Then he eyed a women of above-average weight strolling out of the pizzeria.  "Don't worry baby, I'm on my way," he thought.