There's coke!

Sun, sand and sea. Mantita, umbrella, matte. The ocean breeze, the tranquility. And the street vendors. The gastronomic offer of Argentine beaches is as varied as it is incessant: “There is coca, there is coca! ”; “to chuurros; stuffed, warm chuurros”; “to the piruliiines”. Those are the most typical: soda, churros and pirulines. Choclos, cupcakes, friar balls, ice cream, pochoclos, sandwiches, are other products that make the ever-increasing diversification that exists in this area.

And so, we get used to rest under the umbrella accompanied by the shouts of street vendors without being tempted by what they offer. But even if we're not hungry, we evaluate every offer. A churro at one o'clock at noon? The water I brought is going to catch me all afternoon? How many years ago I haven't been like a pirulin! In most cases, we discard the offer, but that does not stop occupying space in our minds. And, if there are children among the vacationers who have traveled with us, we probably have to hunt the wallet on the fly and run behind the craving of the moment. Or spend long minutes explaining why not, why not that, why not now.

But at some point of the day it happens: it makes us want to eat churros, and churrero never happens anymore, or we die of thirst, but “there is coca, there is coca” doesn't appear anywhere. Then despair begins and, at the slightest sighting of the churrero, the ice cream maker or whoever is the bearer of our object of desire, we go after him, running, screaming, until we reach it.

If fortune isn't on our side, it may have just run out of coke. Or that there are no more stuffed churros. With the truncate illusion, we settle for what was left and we reproach ourselves not having bought before, even if we didn't want to. After all, we knew that, at some point, we were going to want that churro, that friar ball, that choclo that fate now gets out of our hands.

Because even if the wind and sand had made their own, the craving would have been resolved. Moraleja: don't ignore churrero or coca-colero: when you need it, it can be too late.

All served

This overcrowding of street vendors on our beaches could be related, perhaps, to the multiplication of magnets in our refrigerators. Or, to give it a more up-to-date touch, with the ordering apps that take you whatever you want to your home. It would be something like the culture of delivery moved to the arena, but of a delivery you don't need to call. We just have to be attentive to their voices and our desire and, at the moment those two factors intersect, with a movement of the arm and without leaving our lounger, we get what we want and enjoy it right there, between bronzers and sunglasses.

Long live street vendors, who bring us happiness to our little bit of sand.