Decoding Chamuyeros

"She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed;

She is a woman, therefore to be won"

-Billy Shakespeare

Argentinean men could charm the knickers off of even the most devout nun... So much so, that there is actually a name dedicated to these inspirational beings: “Chamuyero” pronounced shaam-u-shero for all you gringos. (*Note: for this piece I only be referencing the behaviors of the male population because women really only need their god-given “talents” to snag a man)

It goes without saying that Argentine men believe that Argentina is the center of the universe and thus they are the most sought after creatures in all the land. Take your standard frat of 100 popped-collared, spiked-hair, frosted-tipped douchebags, multiply it by 10 and you have the exact amount of arrogance found in your run-of-the-mill Chamuyero.

One of my students told me, flat out, that he could get any girl he wanted, at any time solely because he was an Argentine. Fascinated with this bold statement I continued to ask more questions, not knowing if I truly wanted to hear his responses. "Jorge" proceeded to tell me the that American guys don’t need to know how to talk to get a girl; they essentially just need enough coin in their pocket to make it appear that they have obtained “baller-status.” American guys can go out to a club and girls will fall for them (i.e. sleep with them), no questions asked. While I was skeptical, we continued our conversation.

Rumor has it, that in order to get a girl here (well, one worth spending more than an hour at a Telo with), Ar-gen-tinoooos need to master the gift of gab. These women, or “histericas,” tend to fall for the guys that know how to use their tongue (get your head out of the gutter!). A Chamuyero will be able convince her to leave with him, relocate to a Telo, and if he’s a veteran, persuade her best friend to join with them.

You may be asking yourself, “Laura, how have you resisted the enticing charm of the Chamuyero?” It’s quite simple... Everything coming out of their mouths is complete and utter bullshit… While bartending in college, I was exposed to every type of bullshitter you could imagine; the smooth-talker, the sweet (caring) guy, the cocky guy, and the shy guy. While Argentines may think they are unique with their persuasion abilities, there really is no difference between saying “Que linda” and “you’re smoking hot” in my book. Neither is going to work.

Having said that, I believe it is easier to snag (and keep) an American than is it to trap the “elusive” Chamuyero, and turn him into your boyfriend. I’ve seen it over and over; women chasing after these men, who in turn ask them to be in an “open-relationship” or in other words, “I’m going to sleep with you until something better comes along, then I’m going to sleep with her too, and you can’t say anything because we’re in an open-relationship.”

Do you smell that?? Ahh, I believe it’s a fresh BS sandwich… All across the world, women are obsessed with changing the "player." I'm sorry, I know it's been played out.... BUT HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU!

I do have to hand it to them though; it takes a lot of confidence (and determination) to pull off being a Chamuyero.

Ladies, you can't say I didn’t warn you and remember "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

Pshhh, and if the mood strikes you right, join in as a manipulating Chamuyera.

Besos

Boarder Jumping to Uruguay

For those of you who don’t know, I am an illegal immigrant. Phew, that feels good to say out loud! I don’t pay taxes which essentially means I have no rights; then again, I’m pretty sure I’m well below the poverty line by US standards, so does it really matter? Hey Obama, can a girl get some bailout money??! Joking aside, I recently passed 90 days here, which meant I needed a visa run to Uruguay to renew my tourist visa.

I picked up the ferry at 7:45 am on a cold and rainy fall day in Puerto Madero. An hour-long ferry ride and 3-hour bus ride later, I was in Montevideo. While I haven’t done much solo traveling, I quite enjoyed it. I won’t get too existential with you, but it’s definitely good to be alone every so often. It gave me ample “me” time, something that I’m sure I’ll have less and less of as I get older.

Right off the bat, I noticed I was actually able to understand Uruguayans; their accent is similar to Argentina, but they speak slower and pronounce their words clearly. What a novel concept!! For the first time in three months, I felt like all the tuition money spent on Spanish classes wasn’t a waste.

The second most visible difference from BA, was the Maté. I’ve discussed Maté before so here’s the short version of what it is; (Yerba) Maté is a type of loose tea that is poured into a round cup, which is typically made of wood. You then add hot water; just make sure the water hasn’t boiled or you’ll ruin the Maté. You drink it out of a straw with a filter so as to not suck up the leaves. It’s common to see people sharing Maté in a circle, as it’s more of a custom between friends and family.

Uruguayans are absolutely crazy about this stuff! They carry around their thermos full of hot water with their Maté cups, and go to town (literally). To me it seemed somewhat awkward to have your hands full when at the grocery store, mall, or street fair. Then again, I may be biased bc I’m not a huge fan of the stuff unless it’s loaded down with sugar.

Moving on. Montevideo is home to approximately 1.3 million people; you would think that they would make some sort of fuss about nothing being open on Saturdays or Sundays. I’ve gotten used to most places being closed on Sundays in BA; just make sure you get your necessary shopping out of the way during the week and it’s not a problem. Uruguay was another story completely; even national museums were closed.

So, what was a single gal supposed to do in this situation??? Eh, give this girl a map, and she’ll figure out something fun to get into! Then I found it…. a CASINO!!!! I had Vegas flashbacks of all-you-can-drink-while-losing-money and booked it towards the promise land. To say I was disappointed was an understatement. I put my 50 peso note into the machine and ended up winning 15 pesos or the equivalent to 79 cents… And the cocktail servers were passing out coffee, not booze (what??!). Even the Tropicana would put this place to shame.

Leaving the casino, cash winnings in hand, I grabbed a cab and told the driver I wanted to spend money. I don’t care where you’re from in the world; women and shopping malls are mutually exclusive and fabulous. I typically don’t have time or patience to shop in BA, thus I went a little crazy. It’s always fun using your credit card in other countries, especially when you don’t know the exchange rate. So, with each purchase it was like playing “credit card, Russian roulette.” I still haven’t looked at what I spent and probably won’t until next month…

There are times I wish BA could just stop everything; the noise, the bustling, the madness. Yet, I was surprised at how much I missed the city the second I was back on Argentine soil. Weekends away are wonderful but coming home is even better!