This afternoon I stopped at Disco, the neighborhood supermarket, to pick up a few things. As I stood in line, wondering whether Friday was really a smart time to buy anything, given that everyone else had the same idea, a lady behind me struck up a conversation. Actually, it was more a monologue than a conversation:
Can you believe the price of cheese? Cheese shouldn’t cost so much. How can cheese cost so much? This is the best grocery store in the city, and its prices are always reliable. Now, you can go to Carrefour, and they’ve got specials, but in the end, Carrefour always costs more than Disco. The damn government and the damn inflation. Cristina, she’s in bed with Chavez. The Antonini briefcase, why that’s just the beginning. You know, no one in this city voted for her, none of the decent people voted for her. But it’s no use. They just hand out stuff to the poor and the ignorant, and they buy votes. There’s nothing I can do about it. I was born in Buenos Aires, and I’ve lived in this same neighborhood for twenty years. It’s a good place. Now, look at these potatoes. These are just common potatoes. Can you believe what they’re charging for them? It’s robbery, I tell you, but it’s not the store’s fault. Yes, we have good potatoes in Argentina.
I guess she wasn’t impressed by what Cristina wore.
Cristina is in bed with Chavez? He should be so lucky.