If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a million times. And believe me when I say that I have seen it a million times. It’s like a terrible movie scene iterated in my head, over and over again. The actors change, and so does the setting. But the acting, the drama, the intrigue is always the same.
They walk into an urban café, usually a trendy, vividly colored place. The splashes of colors on the walls seem to speak to the depths of the teenage soul saying, “look at me, I’m young and unique.” The figures entering the café seem to walk as one; they hold onto each other affectionately, staring each other in the eyes with a passion that can scarcely be expressed in word.
Each and every couple, epitomizing true love. With their hands clasped firmly together, as if at any moment the forces of the world threaten to rip them violently apart, they approach the counter. Together. In solidarity, they face the next big challenge that life has to offer.
They order their coffee. For the sake of our example, let’s localize ourselves in a Starbucks. To give these actors even more verisimilitude, let’s say, the Starbucks on Viamonte and Callao in the Capital Federal of Buenos Aires which I happen to frequent as a study spot. The scene which I’m laying out for you is, in fact, not a dramatization of real life but instead a third person narrative of a script that I’ve seen enacted on a daily basis.
Let’s continue. We return to our enraptured, star-struck lovers facing the prospect of ordering their food and/or drink. They order carefully but decisively. Not a moment is wasted in ordering lest they should lose a second’s glimpse into the other’s eyes. It would seem as though these lovers have traveled time and space, through galaxies even, to be together on this day. They quite literally radiate happiness and lovey-dovey pride. To the sullen student who sits behind them, trying to work, it is palpable.
They order a frappuccino – strawberry – to share. Its lovely pink hue really sets the tone for the affair. Romantic. They get two straws and they sit down, with the frappuccino resting in front of them, a beautiful work of art in its own right. Argentina does do sweets exceedingly well.
The poor frappuccino goes unattended, however, because at the very moment that the couple sits down, so begins a face-devouring festival of public affection the likes of which you have never seen. It’s not just a facial affair. There is a full bodily ensemble as well which ranges from gentle caressing of the face to some fairly obnoxious groping. For the sake of this blog, we’ll stick with the more benign, gentle lovers.
They pause momentarily to look at each other, share a few flirtatious giggles, and once again lose themselves in the oblivion of their infatuation. The frappuccino, no longer pristine and now tainted by condensation, is finally remembered. The lovers – they could be anywhere from 15 to 35 years of age but generally tend toward the younger ages – sip the straw, one at a time. And then, upon realizing that this act of indulgence presents yet another opportunity for sexual intrigue, they each inch closer to the straw until their noses are touching. They play the dreaded-nose game and rub their noses together, making moves toward the straw. Somehow, amazingly, they never reach the straw and the forsaken frapuccino falls once again to the wayside.
You get the idea. PDA, public display of affection, runs rampant in BA. Kind of like the stray dogs. At first, it’s disconcerting to see couples share what seem to be some very intimate moments in the public sphere. On the subte, in the bars, in the parks, on the streets. Kissing, caressing, flirting, you name it. It is always happening, everywhere.
My personal favorite display of public affection is one whose ironic value to this day makes me chuckle. A guy and a girl, sitting on a couch in a bar called “Carnal” on a Wednesday night. No drinks in front of them. The table is completely clean. It remained that way the entire night. Not once did the couple disentangle their faces to order a drink. Or even to look up. Honestly, I was worried that they were going to stop breathing. In a bar called “Carnal,” no less. Too good, too good.
I still don’t know why they came to the bar though. Really, we had to wait in line to get in. You would think that an apartment would have been better suited to what they wanted to do that night. Who knows? Maybe it was the ambiance. Carnal is actually an awesome bar with happy hour specials all night on Wednesdays. But nonetheless, I think thing about the bar which really resonated with them was the name. They really seemed to embrace the spirit of the name.
You get used to it though, the PDA. Some days, when I’m feeling particularly romantic, I might even call it cute or endearing. I think I’ve even become unconsciously accustomed to seeing it as I seem to notice it less and less now. The initial surprise has diminished and it is a practice that now arouses more cultural curiosity than ire or disgust. Although, given the level of fervor that seems to be involved each and every Argentina relationship, I shudder to think of what the breakups might look like. I imagine something like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Z3s1fJgCEE
