I was relatively proud of myself as I sipped my cafe cortado at the bar of the coffee shop. I had seemingly negotiated the various seating options successfully, had ordered in Spanish and even received what I asked for; but as I stood there watching the other customers I realised that the waiters were just kindly humouring the tourist. Everyone else paid on arrival at the little till by the door, and I was clearly in breach of another social convention...I was absolutely and definitely the only woman standing at the busy bar. Oh well, conventions were devised to be flaunted right?
I felt a bit better by the end of my mammoth 10km daunder round Buenos Aires yesterday afternoon though because I was stopped and asked for directions - in Spanish - not once but twice. So perhaps I don't always have 'tourist' stamped on my forehead.
*Buenos Aires local
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