A few weeks ago, by happenstance, I had the odd experience of being at his grave in Chacarita cemetery on the 72nd anniversary of his death. It's really funny... in Argentina they celebrate the DEATH of someone, instead of their birth. When I tell them that, as a foreigner, celebrating the death of someone ("and good riddance to you!") instead of their birth is really funny to me, they usually don't get the concept. Ah well, chalk it up to cultural differences and what not. Kinda like in the summer, when all the pregnant women walk around here bare-bellied in half shirts... now THAT'S funny.

But after leaving this little gathering and walking through the cemetery, I noticed a bunch of little green parrots all over the place (about 3x the size of parakeets). The locals call them "loros", which I always thought was your standard Polly-want-a-cracker macaw parrot. Well, this lady in her mid-70s notices me watching the parrots and launches into a story about her youth in Madrid. The good news is that I understood it. The bad news is that I understood it... it was exceedly long and lacked anything resembling a point.
The gist of it was how she enjoyed all the "gaviotas" (seagulls) in Madrid just like here... although she kept pointing at the LOROS. I became fixated on the fact that maybe I didn't understand which bird was called which name until finally, at the end of her lonnnnggggggggggggg story, I asked her "but aren't these birds called loros"?? She just shrugged her shoulders and responded "who knows? birds are birds." Anyway, it was sorta funny. Pointless but funny.
