A couple of weeks ago, while wandering around the city, I noticed a sign on a restaurant door: Día de la Mujer, 8 marzo, 20% descuento. I thought it might indicate a Thursday ladies' night (just like college!) and didn't think anything of it until I started seeing similar signs offering women's day discounts on many restaurant doors.
I have since learned that this is an international holiday, although I have to admit I have never, ever heard of it before. Even on facebook, I saw many of my US-based friends posting happy women's day messages, so apparently I was the only one in the dark.
At the time of the sign sightings, though, I was thinking it was an Argentine thing. And how delighted I was: kids get a day here, mothers and fathers get a day. I am none of those things. Where is my day? March 8, that's right. Thank you, Argentina. I pointed this out to Brent, who grumbled a bit and suggested that Valentine's Day is women's day, so I took that to mean I wasn't getting any presents.
But, he stopped by the bar on the way home from work yesterday and brought me some wonderful chocolate. I love that he gets me.
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