Por Que Mierda 2...

I took a walk this afternoon because it was a beautiful day. I wanted to walk and find some of the big mansions in Palermo Chico, which I guessed was not too far from where I am living because I saw some places I recognized coming back from Jumbo in the taxi yesterday.

I eventually made my way to Avenida Libertador, which though it is a busy street, was actually nice to walk on. Since it was very wide and the sidewalks were wide, I wasn't playing pedestrian obstacle course and didn't have to breathe too much of the exhaust fumes.

I stopped at Volta and had some ice cream (#2 for this week) and then continued on.

First I came to this street sign that said Avenida John Fitzgerald Kennedy. I thought it was unusual that they had a street named after Kennedy and also that they spelled out his middle name. I imagined Argentines trying to pronounce the whole thing - quite a mouthful.

I could see a big mansion behind the sign and thought I was approaching the area I wanted to walk around in, but as I passed the mansion and looked up (there was a guard standing at the gate) I saw an American flag flying. The flag was actually blowing in the wind and I wanted to get a picture, but as I pointed my camera up, the wind stopped and the flag fell, so I didn't take a picture. I walked a little passed this building, which I assumed was the US Embassy and saw that there were no other big mansions, only lots of apartment buildings, and decided to turn around. I pointed my camera up at the building even though the flag wasn't flying just so I could have a picture to show everyone how regally our ambassador to Argentina lives, and I heard this shrill whistle.

There was a car behind me that had just let someone out and I thought maybe I was in his way, so I turned around only to realize that the whistle was coming from in front of me. I turned and saw the guard wagging his finger at me and saying something.

I knew what he was saying, but pretended I didn't and said, "como?" (what?)

He told me I was not allowed to take photos.

And I said, "por que mierda?"

Well, I didn't actually say that, but I wish I had. Damn!

I asked him why I couldn't take photos. He seemed a bit surprised that I would ask that question and even smiled a little. He told me it was the residence of the US Ambassador. I told him I was American. He said the people who lived there didn't want people taking pictures of their house.

I wish I had responded that my tax dollars are paying for their house, but I was too pissed.

I decided it would be better to just say thank you and walk away.