I cannot even begin to write every little detail of the trip, so I won't even try. Here's a brief rundown, and a few of my favorite memories. Other than that, I'll let the photos do the talking.
On the flight from L.A. to D.C. a Roger Waters lookalike sat across the aisle from me. I blasted Pink Floyd and stared at him for practically all of the 4.5 hours. I desperately wished for him to see the irony. After a very brief time in D.C., it was off to Buenos Aires. "Comfortably Numb" over Cuba, and "Summer '68" over Jamaica. Once we landed and went through long lines and hectic customs, we were given wet kisses by an uncle, and were quickly escorted to a small car For the first couple weeks of our stay, we stayed with my mother's cousin (Florencia, as well as her husband, Alejandro, and their children Martin and Mili), who was much like an aunt to us. Throughout the visit, we met plenty of family who like to drink plenty of wine and laugh into the wee hours. On Thanksgiving night, there was a blackout. I bathed by candlelight, and after dressing, I lied down on the bed and (of course) listened to Pink Floyd as lightning light up the sky. It was as though the sky was taking pictures of the world. It was a serene moment. Days later, on the way back from the largest mall in Latin America, the weather still gloomy, we sat in the back of Alejandro's truck as raindrops trickled through the window and hit my face, and Bob Dylan hummed in my ears. Eventually, we moved into my grandmother's apartment in the heart of Buenos Aires. From then on, we adventured everyday. In a previous post, I talked about my favorite spot, Plaza Francia in Recoleta, Buenos Aires. (Just blocks away) The entire area of Recoleta is just stunning. Lots of gorgeous French-style architecture, with parks, squares, cafes, galleries, and little shops, with beautiful bohemians running around on weekends. I also adored Calle Florida, and everything that surrounded it. The incredible walk from our part of town to Calle Florida let us cover plenty of land. I wish I could've caught all the names. As I write this, I'm looking up all the names I can remember and photos, and its all so breathtaking. Its hard to believe I was truly there. The people of Argentina were also interesting. The women were fairly unfriendly, and completely unaccepting of North American women (especially when we were dressed in very un-Argentinian garb). The men, on the other hand, were very attentive. Either complete dogs or absolute gentlemen. One rainy night, my grandmother, sister, and I walked home from a day touring the city. My grandmother told me to walk under the sheltered areas, but loving rain as I do, I didn't listen. Then when we were just about home, a gorgeous, suited man lightly placed his hand on my back and his umbrella over my head and said "Permiso?" Mind you, I had never experienced such hospitality in the U.S., so I completely taken back, all I could do was smile and nod. My grandmother was completely convinced this man thought I was a prostitute (She is old, very foreign, and completely overprotective. Its part of her charm.) and that was the only reason he wanted to talk to me. So she yelled at his furiously in Spanish and scared the poor man away. I kept an eye out for him until the day I left. Another time, after all of my music got deleted off my iPod (I cried big, salty tears), I went to use a restaurant's WiFi and couldn't get it to work. So, the manager announced to the restaurant that they needed someone who could read English to try to help us. A clean-cut looking fellow with Keith Richards-like bone structure stepped up, with his gorgeous girlfriend, and said he'd give it go. He was beautiful and charming, and eventually I got enough music to hold me over. On our voyage back, we had a layover in Panama City. As soon as we got off the plane, we walked into a terminal where a marching band played "The Final Countdown" at high volumes. We were soon on another plane back to Los Angeles. Never have I loved my home more. I anxiously awaited our arrival in this divine city, and once we landed, I genuinely wanted to kiss the ground. To sum it all up: the clothes, the men, the architecture, the food, the wine, and so much more of Argentina's rich culture, is all just brilliantly delicious in every way. One day, I'll return (under my own conditions, without my grandmother, and with a return ticket) and lap up everything once more.
