Back from BA

So I was finally able to experience the wonders of Argentina's capital of Good Airs. It was wonderful being thrust back into the summertime while freezing rain was falling back at home. Equally wonderful was the strange new taste of combination flavors that is Buenos Aires--things that you never thought should go together (straight British roads, curley-cue French architecture, crazed Latin American driving, Italian chic). By no means is my experience a revelation--people have been saying this about BA from the beginning, but now I actually know it and love it--like discovering the strange joy of ham and pineapple pizza.

Despite every Argentine being fashionably skinny, food and drink seemed central to passing hours in this ultimate city. I believe I ate my weight in Dulce de Leche, then repeating the same but with blood red steak. Surely this is a city that deserves a month or two of agenda-free days and nights. I had a grand total of two days but my eyes took in enough art and park scenes for weeks of contemplation. And that is what I am doing now: contemplating how I can sell all my belongings and get a nice 6th or 7th floor apartment with a balcony somewhere in Recoleta and trade in my life's ambitions for the much more daunting task of pretending to be Argentine.

My favorite moment in BA? An hour left before leaving for the airport, walking up the frantic sidewalk of a cobblestone street of roaring traffic, past Parisian magazine kiosks and the charge of Friday afternoon people, stepping into the post office (ring!), taking a number, and watching a giant old clock tick-tocking away. That, and the many alfajores.