Friend's Day in Argentina left me feeling like Bridget Jones

On July 20, people across South America reconnected with old friends, sending phone lines into a state of frenzy. But this expat spent it all alone ...

bridget jones
Amanda spent the evening at home alone with a silent phone and an air of self-pity - just like Bridget Jones Credit: Photo: Image.Net / Film Stills

Many countries – not to mention greeting card companies – have tried to establish a ‘friend day’, but no one has managed to do so with quite as much gusto as Argentina. Dia del Amigo falls on July 20 here but that doesn’t limit celebrations to just one day. In Mendoza, where I live, the event stretches into more than a week of gift giving, glass clinking and general backslapping.

The Friend's Day hangover – too many bars and too much Malbec – can last for weeks as everyone crawls back into winter hibernation, often until Spring Day in September.

What sparked this annual phenomenon? The Apollo 11 landing in 1969. The sight of man setting foot on the moon for the first time so touched Dr Enrique Ernesto Febbraro, an Argentine dentist and philosopher, that he declared it the ‘International Day of Friendship’ in celebration of the unity of mankind. One small step for man, one giant leap for drinks promotions.

Dr Febbraro wrote over 1,000 letters to leaders around the globe asking them to join in, and as good neighbours, Uruguay and Brazil both took up the day. Paraguay has a similar celebration on July 30. This is the time of year (even more so than Christmas) when locals dig out their phone book – or rattle through their Facebook friend list – to reconnect with friends they perhaps haven’t seen all year.

In the run up to Friend’s Day you book nights out with your friends, seek out old work colleagues for a lunch, call mates from university for a drink, pull together pals from college for another barbecue, even contact those friends of your ex that you always liked for a quick coffee … the list goes on.

Fans of Argentina pose before the semi-f...Fans of Argentina pose before the semi-final football match between Netherlands and Argentina of the FIFA World Cup at The Corinthians Arena in Sao Paulo on July 9, 2014.

It's time to show the love in Argentina on July 20 (AFP/GETTY)

As the date draws near, it becomes increasingly difficult to make a reservation at any restaurant or bar. People end up double or triple booking themselves the night before the big day and by the time July 20 arrives it is with a flurry of last-minute text messages and phone calls to each and every person you remember ever having a conversation with. The volume of friend well wishing is so high that the phone networks usually melt down for a couple of hours.

In a country where the average wedding guest list tops 500, you can imagine the friend list for Dia del Amigo. If you don't get a WhatAapp message from those friends, at the very least, it is considered a snub. One friend of mine this year achieved 12 get-togethers in the space of just six days, and she is still trying to catch up with those she missed in the mayhem.

The actual Friend’s Day is reserved for your top-tier amigos - for Argentines this is usually a big group of friends from school they have met every July 20 since they were 15 years old. This leaves expats in a precarious position. Even the friends you see thrice weekly shamelessly sideline you on the big day for the friends they avoid for the rest of the year. As a foreigner and newbie, your single-digit years of friendship just don’t cut the mustard compared with bosom buddies who remember your days with braces on your teeth.

You can also forget seeking solace in a boyfriend or girlfriend. Contrary to most social situations in Argentina, this is the one day when lovers are strictly off the menu. It’s a cardinal Friend's Day sin to spend the day with anyone who is more than a friend.

So come Friend’s Day this year I found myself alone with a cold, plenty of self-pity, a stack of movies and a takeaway menu. This Bridget Jones-style state of affliction probably suited my British cynicism better anyway. But there was a glitch – ordering home delivery takes at least three hours longer than usual on Dia del Amigo because of the burnt-out phone lines, and a backlog of orders from groups of friends who forgot to make their restaurant reservations in time.

When my order did finally arrive though, the moon was well and truly shining in the sky and it only took four little words from the deliveryman to make me feel invited into the local ritual again, “Feliz Dia del Amigo!”