A friend of mine just back from a cruise of Brazil,
Uruguay and Argentina, sent me this photo of a bookshop in Buenos Aires,
because he knows first hand about the relationship between books and me:
He referred to it as “bookstore Valhalla”.
And yes—I want to go there.
It’s called El Ateneo, and was for many years a theatre
with a seating capacity of more than 1000.
I’m pretty sure my friend would never have dared to go
there if I were in tow, as I’d still
be there, wandering through the shelves and stacking up a pile of purchases.
Back when we were colleagues at Hughes Aircraft Company, he and another
co-worker helped me relocate about 25 cartons of books from Pasadena to Van Nuys,
using my father’s pickup truck as transport. (I leave other things to movers,
but I always pack and sometimes move the books myself.)
After about his tenth carton, the third man asked, “Why’d
you have to be such a literate woman?” But in fairness, they did finish the job
without further stick, and I gave them a terrific lunch at a hole-in-the-wall
Mexican place that had the most amazing burritos. Not even the Third Man could
finish his.
Anyhow, I guess El Ateneo goes onto my bucket list.
Because…damn.
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