Reactionary

I am situated in a nearly perfect location on the border between posh Recoleta and hip Palermo. A guy from the apartment rental company was here to greet me as promised. The apartment is a small but airy one bedroom that’s actually nicer than the pictures I saw online. It has just about everything I would need. The only thing I couldn’t do is bake since there’s no mixer or whisk. But it’s immaculately clean, the WiFi works, the cable works, there’s AC and central heat and the bedroom is in an interior courtyard away from the street. The owner even left a written instruction page on what to do about everything from getting rid of the trash to getting your laundry done.

As soon as I managed to shower and change, I quickly got my bearings and went out. I walked from that moment on. I had planned to have lunch somewhere but I kept changing my mind and just stopped for Un Altra Volta ice cream.

Buenos Aires is like a lot of cities in one. Sometimes it feels like Rome’s suburbs, sometimes like Barcelona, sometimes like Paris and then like none of them. There are some very bleak housing projects on the outskirts but where I am right now, it’s busy but bright like the residential areas in Rome. Grafitti, much like every Latin city, is endemic, even in better parts of town. Everyone keeps a sharp eye on their bags, especially when around the usual suspects. People dress well. And everyone understands most of what I say. I get confused when a word is written as if for an Italian pronunciation but then it’s not and I’m not sure where the Italian rules end and the Spanish ones begin. I don’t think anyone really knows.

I plan on turning in early after consuming my cow I just got at the market. I will hopefully feel brighter tomorrow. I can’t decide if I want to shop in Palermo or see the city center. If I utilize the Subte, I may be able to do both. It’s a biggr town to walk in than I thought.

My cab driver told me the Argentine national team plays a World Cup qualifier at River Estadio tonight. He said they were toeing the line between being in or out. Si no hay Argentina, no hay Mundial.

October 7th, 2009 | Category: Travels |  Print |  Send it | Subscribe to comments | Leave a comment | Trackback URL