A magical first day

“I´d like to check in my bags… I´m going to Buenos Aires.¨ It felt weird to say those words at the check-in counter, but I said them. When she handed me my boarding pass I started to cry with excitement. Fast forward past a boring plane ride…

Mi Amor meets me at the airport and takes me to a hotel in San Telmo, where we´re basing ourselves for two days while we look at a couple of apartments to rent. I am immediately taken by the heat of the city…it´s really summer…

We settle into a table in the main plaza in San Telmo (what´s it called?), to sip beer and share our peanuts with some very determined pigeons. I look around me as we walk around, marveling at the architecture that kind of reminds me of our visit to Valencia, Spain. There is a spirit of creation, art, originality in the air.

I smell a lot of things… the sun, people´s sunscreen, food, car fumes… I hear a few different languages around me, and Mi Amor is urging me to speak some Spanish with him. We walk all the way to his parent´s house in Congreso and I´m a little nervous because my Spanish level is that of a three-year-old, and probably not even that.

His mother is loving and seems very Italian…she´s making pasta by hand for our lunch. His father is gregarious and funny. His two nieces are there, both teenagers, and one of them wants to be an English professor. I stumble through our conversation, and though I am embarrassed they are patient with me and encourage me positively when I think of the right words in Spanish. This is exhausting.

We eat….and eat…. and eat. I have been given proof that the helado in Argentina is perhaps the best ice cream in the world, or at least right on par with Italy´s gelato. It´s the same Italian recipe, but the quality of the milk gives it a certain…something that makes me close my eyes with every taste.

After a two-hour nap (jetlag), we take a look at one of the apartments which is nice except for the fact that there are two beds we´d have to push together. We decide there are better apartments out there for us, though the owner is incredibly sweet.

As we walk, I notice the cartoneros, people who go through the garbage, sorting out the paper from the garbage… I believe they get a (very) small compensation for this. This started around the time of the crisis, in 2001… they come from the outskirts of Buenos Aires to do this, every evening. It makes me feel sad. I wonder how they must feel about this. Are they sad? Maybe, maybe not. It’s a way to survive…sometimes you just do what you have to do and don´t think much on it. I don´t know a lot about this city or its history and I plan on learning more before writing any more about this. Comments are naturally welcome.

At about 9:00pm, Mi Amor takes me back to the fun-filled plaza where there are people selling jewelry, playing music, drinking, walking… There is a vibrant feeling in the air, San Telmo is waking up. I´m taken aback by the spirit of this neighborhood and I don´t know why but I begin to weep. I am so happy that I am here. We have a glass of white wine in a balcony above the plaza before continuing on to eat a very carniverous dinner…

My internet connection is limited, and I must rush now…

… more to come…