Once there the entire production seemed entirely suspect in the by now familiar rural way of Buenos Aires : a huge metal sheet drawn over some shop windows. Because it was Saturday so ~obviously~ the shops have to be closed, what the hell is this, capitalism ?! And because "closed" has to mean "covered in sheet metal rated to withstand direct howitzer hits" because why the hell not.

There was nevertheless some sort of intercom, which my girl rang. This resulted in some other girl popping up in the balcony above, because hey, intercoms, right ? And then soon thereafter a 3 foot x 1 foot hole in the metal sheeting was uncorked by some smiling guy bent over at the hips in a strange postmodern rendition of the serpent surounding the world.

I didn't go through the fucking dog door, because, perhaps shocking to this whole country of domesticated animals, I myself am not a dog. So bear this in mind, if you're considering going to anything organised by "ekospace", especially if it's "ekoparty" or whatever in that vein : they literally think you're a pet, some sort of barn animal like themselves, and will in point of fact expect you to go through a dog door. Preferably on all fours, I expect.

This, incidentally, is exactly in line with the "night life" and "party scene" of this objectionable shithole, and therefore the locals won't on their own mental power manage to comprehend what the fuck they did wrong. Because they haven't the first inkling as to the cosmic depth of their inadequacy.