Un Sábado cualquiera

Hola! So I haven´t written in a while! Mainly because, although I am still trying to be adventurous and do new things, I have found a pretty pleasant, not very bloggable routine here. However, after a dear Austinite friend told me that her image of all countries Mexico and below was "a combination of the jungle and the San Antonio riverwalk," I decided to take her suggestion and write just a little bit about daily life in Córdoba.
Last Saturday, I did my traditional Saturday jog around the plaza about a block from my house (see what I mean about routine? I did change the route up a little bit though!) Afterwards I plopped down to stretch and watch people. In order to not appear creepy, I had to keep a quick rotation. Here´s what I saw.
(I am going to use the present tense to add some of the excitement that might be missing due to a lack of dangerous protests, mysterious Latin lovers or strange cuts of meat).
On my left, there are three or four separate pairs of girls, all drinking maté, silver thermoses in their laps. Thanks to my new, lovely, estrogen-filled housing arrangement, I no longer look at female friends and long desperately for them to turn to me and invite me into their circle. It feels nice. On my right, there are about 25 kids (who would hate to be called kids) between the ages of 13 and 17. Judging by their long, carefully placed bangs, tight pants and gender-blind eye makeup, I would probably say they are floggers. Do floggers exist in the US? Well, just in case they don´t, floggers are a weird hybrid of emo, hipster and a little bit of goth, plus lots of colors. The name comes from the fact that there biggest activity (besides meeting up in plazas) is taking pictures of themselves and putting them on fotolog. As is the case with most "urban tribes," they probably would not call themselves floggers. I like them because at least they stray from the standard Córdoba uniform of tight jeans, tight striped purple sweaters, boots and long layered hair (girls) and boring t-shirts and jeans (boys). They look friendly, and one girl even has a kitchen pot with some sort of delicious snack in it. I resist asking for a bite.
By the fountain there´s a GIANT man who might be a flogger except for his black fishnet sleeve on one arm and some chains dangling from his black pants. He is calling someone on the phone, and he is annoyed. Finally, about ten minutes later, his friends arrive. They are also "onda dark", and I smile as they all greet each other with kisses on the cheek. They may be rebellious in their clothing, but you still gotta follow some societal norms. I love Argentina.
My favorite part of the plaza is the dogs (as long as I don´t lie in their poop). They are so spunky and full of personality, a little gang of British street urchins grabbing cookies from wherever they can get 'em. Just cause they are independent, however, does not mean they don´t need love. One big, stinky guy curls up to a hippie girl who appears to be studying. The fact that she lets him lay his head in her lap makes my day.