on appropriate hangovers

and so it always happens this time of year that I get a bee in my bonnet about how I want to feel about New Years. Either it's carefully cultivated indifference ("oh, I dunno. Whatever, no big deal"), or a desperate need for the big-kiss-at-the-end-of-the-countdown cheese, as seen in romantic comedies. This year I'm getting a feeling for the latter plus a new desire to just... well.. sort of get shitfaced in some way or other. And nurture a hangover maybe.

Whenever I express this desire to others, this is how the conversation goes:

them: why on earth would you want to do that?

me: because I've never had a hangover before, and I thought this was a good occasion to do it.

t: well you've never jumped off the Harbour Bridge before either.

m: yes, but that's terminal. People have hangovers all the time and I want to know what that's
like. Also, I've never been vomity drunk before.

t: why the fuck would you want to feel like that?

m: because people are always going on about how wasted they were/are and I just want to know what they're talking about. It's like a need for empathy.

t: you don't need any empathy! It's a horrible feeling!

m: well you do it all the time.

t: yes, but it's awful.

m: so why do you do it?

t: I don't do it to get a hangover or vomit!

m: yes but you still drink with the knowledge that you'll probably get a hangover and possibly get drunk. If it's so awful why don't you just not drink?

t: shut up, dick!

OK, so they don't end it like that. But I had to end the script somewhere.

What irritates me is the patronising "oh, I've been there, and you don't want to do that, little one" tone that seems to permeate this conversation. Drinking and getting shitfaced is, from what I've seen, a large part of this culture, and what confounds me is the cultivation of the idea of "accidental" shitfacery, when, quite clearly, in this town at least, the act of drinking is a deliberate stepping stone to shitfacery. So it's OK for the drinker to decide to get shit-faced while drinking, under the pretence of "accidental shitfacery", but not OK for me to decide to get shitfaced to see what a hangover is like?

Maybe the hangover curiosity stems from the one (and last, he vows) time that Stephen got shitfaced - on the night before the day before our wedding. I'd had a rather pleasant hen's night bowling while he played poker and drank Soju in the wedding marquee until he fell off his chair multiple times and vomited in the garden. The next morning, when we were due to complete a not entirely small amount of gardening to get the grounds ready for everything, his brother answered the phone blearily and told me that Stephen wasn't going to make it to the phone. My dependable, always there Stephen, not coming to phone when there was a heap of sweaty labour to be done? I had never experienced a hangover so first hand before. By afternoon, I still hadn't seen my groom-to-be and I was miserable. I remember sitting in the grass with a trowel in one hand and 20 little pots of pink flowers to be planted on the ground next to me, and crying. All because of Stephen's Hangover.

Later, when I asked why he couldn't physically have dragged himself out of bed and helped me, he told me that having a hangover felt like death. I don't know how that feels and I guess ever since then I've wanted some kind of empathy. I could have just gotten shitfaced a few days after when the wedding madness was over, but it would have seemed... unpoetic. I could have got shitfaced last New Years, but... to be honest, I can't actually remember what I did last New Years, which is just my point. I want to remember my New Years. And ironically, forgetting it in a drunken stupor would actually be more memorable than what I did last year. Which isn't to say that last New Year's was crap, I'm sure it was pleasant, but it was so pleasant that I forgot it. Maybe a bit of debauchery this year will mark the occasion in a more appropriate fashion.

We'll see.

(and it's not lost on me that I'm extremely privileged this is my only New Year concern)

breakfast:
rice and left over scallops, finished with a plate of cherries. I am so lucky to live here.

moving on...

nothing really to say really. Not sure why I had the urge to blog, but then I managed to get onto one of the hostel's two 'free' internet stations, and felt I needed to use the time well. This travel head space is taking a little while to get used to.. having internet and hearing news from home (just got the news our cat is getting a little stressed in the new cattery :( ) makes the transition better in some ways, but not so good in others because the tethers to home are still there, and in some ways it's better not to be missing and worrying about the things back home...

Things done in BA:

Tango show
La Boca (it's a tourist trap!)
Puerto Madro
Ummm.... lolly and iceblock stores, which are everywhere! On every block! My dentist is going to kill me...

Onward to Cordoba tonight on an 11 hour bus ride, but apaprently, it's like business class on a plane with very reclinable seats and fold down TV screens... sweeeeet

breakfast:
nothing yet, but about to have toast with jam and butter. Stephen says it reminds him of home...

free internet at the hostel = no

the reality of our addiction to the internet is apparent when we get grumpy and start sniping at each other, just because it´s been too long between hits. The hostel boasted ´free internet´, which actually meant 2 internet stations, one of which was bung (and the other of which is also occasionally bung) which means that there´s always a young and bouncy backpacker sitting there.

Since when did I get so old that young and bouncy backpackers irritate me just by their enthusiasm for beer and extreme sport? Maybe it´s their hair fudge and cut off tees that just rub me up the wrong way. Grump grump.

Anyway, it´s nice to get our hit here in an extremely cheap internet cafe... noone speaks english, but it´s cool, they seem friendly enough. Swelteringly hot outside, but looking forward to the antique market today - Stephen is off with Jason to the Science Museum (ha ha nerds!).

Have visited:
The Evita Museum
Evita´s tomb in the Recoleta Cemetery
The huuuge Recoleta market
The Obelisco
The city cathedral

Market shopping really is done best by oneself. Signing off!

Breakfast:
cornflakes. Provided free by the hostel ( the bakery around the corner was closed but if it had been open I would have got a sweet croissant)