Okay, I admit it: I procrastinated the start of this blog until a whole week into our trip. Why? Its a shallow, self-conscious reason; I just couldn't think of a good name for it. Despite having a week to debate the merits of possible titles, I'm still not sure I'm satisfied but I figured I better get going already, before all my entries are written in retrospect. So with many apologies, I don't have much to say about our first three days in Argentina. We spent them in the capital, Buenos Aires. Our time was pretty evenly divided between getting lost and stuffing ourselves with delicious, delicious food. As a consolation prize, I would like to share my first journal entry, written late at night on the rooftop terrace of our hostel, the conclusion of day one in Argentina:
"Sitting on the terrazia, five floors above street level in Buenos Aires- a large city that never seems to slumber. I, of course, am exhausted. Fully satiated after eating some of the best ravioli I've ever had, I am one step closer to Italy and one giant leap further from everything I hate about America. I am amazed, overwhelmed and nervous about my arrival here. After so much preparation it seems nearly impossible to have finally arrived. But what will happen next is a great mystery to me.
I am so grateful to have Patrick, my love, to share this experience with. I feel that from this point on, we are bound together in a way I have never tethered myself to another in the past. Now, we share the bond of having done something, together. Now, no matter who we become in the future, we will always be each other's partner in this moment of extraordinary experience.
I do not feel the same dreamlike state I experienced upon arriving in India, however. Perhaps that trip will always remain like my first love; burned into me, untouchable, impossible to replicate, forever golden-hued and perfect no matter how many imperfections it truly contained. There is no sense of reality in first love.
Yet, maybe this are just very different this time, in a realistic way. i am not alone, for one. And the language, if not familiar, is at least comprehensible to me. The people are at once friendly and aloof in a way that exudes cool, collected charm. My blonde hair does not cause people to stop dead in their tracks and gape, open-mouthed, the way it sometimes did in Jaipur. It is nice to be able to blend in here. If not completely, then at least in a crowd, at least upon first impression (before I open my mouth an vomit my atrocious Spanish). In Buenos Aires, people speak to me first in Spanish, no initial trace of suspicion about my being a clueless foreigner. I am happy, in this moment, that we are here, not in Thailand or even India again. I am happy to be able to feel that I might be able to settle here and feel- as impossible as it seems- at home. "
Of course the romantic in me loved this post the most so far :) It does come pretty close to the one about carne. -just kidding.
ReplyDeletePS: Did you know in Romanian we use the same, exact word for meat? {Carne}