Schlurp. Schluuuuurp. Schleck, schleck. Schlick, giggle, schluuurp.
Ah, the delightful, not-at-all-nauseating sounds of young couples in love! Along with honking horns and buses rumbling down cobblestone streets, the wet, sploshy sound of tongues exploring throats adds another note to the grand Buenos Aires symphony. Public make-out sessions are as much an Argentine pastime as drinking mate (and there’s an eerie acoustical resemblance between the last sip of mate and the slurping of kissing kids).
They’ll make out anywhere, these horned up monkeys! Waiting for the bus, on the bus, on a bench, in a store, in front of my apartment door, in parks. Oh my god, in parks. Last Sunday, in Parque Lezama, I thought I was in the middle of a kissing competition. I felt like I should go around to each couple sprawled out on a blanket, and award them points for style and presentation.
This might be a phenomenon all over Latin America, but Buenos Aires is the first place I’ve ever encountered such outrageous amounts of PDA. Sure, there’s something sweet about it, but I don’t know. A quick peck on the lips is about as far as I’m willing to go in public. But I’m from the States; we’re prudish that way.