Is it time for breakfast yet?

Buenos Aires has a reputation as one of the most active night scenes
in the whole world, and as I've just discovered, for good reason.
Dinner most nights starts around 9-9:30, about the time I've gnawed
off about 3 fingers out of sheer starvation. Then on the weekends (or
any day, if you're a minimally committed foreign exchange student) a
little siesta is in order, followed by an 11:00 visit to the local
cafe for a coffee and ice cream (or in my case, ice cream and ice
cream). Around 12 or so, once all the friends have gathered (meeting
times mean nothing here), the group migrates to a local bar for some
of the cheapest drinks I've ever seen. Local beer: Quilmes, not bad.
Then, at the time US bars are closing their doors, the bigger bars are
starting to turn into clubs, and the bigger clubs are starting to
open. No one's really going crazy with the drinks, so the usual post
alcohol exhaustion never really kicks in. A few hours dancing to
Duran Duran-era hits rounds out the night, but no one's going to bed
before a quick breakfast at a cafe on the way home. Rinse, repeat.
Two days of this, and I've never slept so soundly. I got out of bed
today at 2:30, undoubtedly the latest I've ever slept in. I came out
of my room with a sheepish grin on my face to find out that not only
was my family not surprised, they too were in their pajamas. I love
this place.

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