Perspective

You know how a couple can be deeply in love, and eventually they have a fight - but since their love runs deep and true, they are able allow the situation to make their relationship that much stronger and deeper? Well that’s how I feel about Buenos Aires today.

No city is without its frustrations and inconveniences. It’s part of the reality of living anywhere. I learned about Telecom the hard way here last week, after sitting on hold for three hours just to get an internet password that I didn’t actually need. And lately I have had to contend with the owner of this house and his friends and relatives thinking they can just come in whenever they want and stay as long as they want. Never mind that we might all be sleeping or I might be running from the shower to my bedroom half naked, or that we might be getting ready to entertain guests. I had to tell my guests not to come over yesterday, because the owner showed up, made a mess, and decided to stick around for a few hours to paint. Paint! Without any warning to us. We eventually talked him into leaving. We all agreed that he would come back Thursday and paint to his heart’s content.

The best part is the owner’s brother-in-law who, while a really nice person who has helped me immensely with some things recently, comes over and orders food. I’m talking entire meals. He shows up, picks up the phone and orders lunch or dinner - for himself - and then sits at our table and eats. Then he hangs around while we go about our business. He usually picks up my French roommate’s guitar and starts playing it. I think he likes the place. He just doesn’t leave. And when he does leave the house smells like whatever he ate.

For the record I’ve decided I can’t live like this and I’m changing apartments. While I’ve been told that it’s normal for owners to come to their homes as they please to fix something here and there, I am inclined to think that this particular family is a little overboard. I think they just really like this house and want to be in it. And I also think they are odd.

So naturally yesterday I was mad and thinking, “Why am I here?!”

Then I met up with Ale and Pedro, my 72-year old friend who was to give a lesson in milonga con traspie to TP. The warmth in Pedro’s eyes when I showed up, made me fall in love with this city all over again. I served as the lovely assistant for the lesson, and had a few lovely dances with Pedro. Afterwards we ate beautiful paella that made me reminisce about Valencia, and then we all went to Canning, where Color Tango was playing and Jorge Dispari and La Turca were performing. It made me feel better.

This morning I woke up and made my way to the usual panederia to pick up the usual medialunas (it’s our house tradition). The neighborhood I live in is not beautiful at all. I’m in Once. But this morning I stepped out of my building and on to the street, which is being worked on and therefore has no cars. The sidewalks were bustling with people, and I could hear the noises the workers were making with their machinery as they repaired the road. Today there was a particular… life on the street and in the air around me. The woman who helps me at the panederia is always nice, but she was particularly smiling and friendly this morning.

Afterwards, I approached the door to my building to see a woman peaking inside. When I was next to her, she looked at me and said, “Do you live here?” “Yes,” I said. Her eyes beamed. “I was born here. I was born in this building, in apartment number 24, sixty years ago. It hasn’t changed! The building is so beautiful.” I loved hearing that. We wished each other good day and she went on her way and I went inside to make some coffee and begin work. I realized that my Spanish flowed this morning. (Yay!)

I realized this afternoon as I finished and turned in a translation, that I don’t know how I can possibly leave this city. I love it so much. I want to be with this city through thick and thin. My heart is full. Of course, I’ll go to Seattle and then I’ll move to Italy, but… I’m going to make this city a part of my life. Tickets between Rome and Buenos Aires are not hard to come by…