If we are to generalize, which is more fun and effective than most other bigoted pursuits I've tried, there are peoples in the world that just are better at certain things.
We all know Vikings were exceptional at raping and pillaging and spreading their seed. How else would my family have received the gift of red hair in the British Isles?
Italians just make better coffee, it's a fact based not only on flavor, but also on price and the joy of watching Italians march up to a bar, order a coffee, shoot it back, throw down 80 cents, and leave all in the matter of two minutes.
United States-ers have a perfected sense of entitlement and empowered idealism paired with general cynicism and self-centeredness that isn't rivaled anywhere in the world.
Argentines I've met, though, have their own very unique quality that I haven't found to have exceptions. All Argentines I've met are first and foremost very proud to be Argentine, whether they agree with the current or recent politics or think the country is headed in the right direction. Politics in Argentina polarize, whether in agreement with current leadership or not, or if the economy right now with the state of inflation is a problem or not.
And what's not to be proud of? Their national food is based on at least four cuts/forms of meat being consumed with a nice hunk of bread at any given meal. When snack time rolls around they not only do Italian-style coffee, but slather baked goods up with dulce de leche and/or chocolate. It's a beautiful, patriotic country, but the best side of Argentina doesn't become clear until an Argentine is asked for directions.
"Where is the bus terminal?" we asked a hunched-over, elderly woman taking her dog out to the bathroom in a no-name town outside Córdoba.
"It's behind you, you'll take a right at this intersection, go one street over to the one-way street, go down that in the opposite direction you're facing three blocks until you come to a roundabout with a big cross in the middle. It's just past the cross in the next block, you'll see the buses."
Wow. Not bad for the senility that inevitably comes with that ripe old age.
"Do you know where I can get a nice parrilla barbecue meal?"
"Sure, the best place I know is back on ___ Street. Go down this street 9 blocks until you get to ___ Street. Take a left. Keep going until you go past the police station on the corner of ___ and ___. Turn right and go down about 100 meters, it's called ___."
And my personal favorite! When an Argentine for some unforeseen and terrible life circumstance can't tell you how to get somewhere:
"How do I get to the post office?"
"[looking deep into my eyes, showing the cloudy, pre-tear eyes of utter panic and disappointment] I... I don't know. I'm incredibly sorry. I do not know where that is. I'm sorry, very sorry. Good luck."
I love you, Argentina, I just love you to pieces. My arteries are happy to be away from all that red meat and sugar, but I don't know what I'll do without your people.
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