Buenos Aires is starting to feel a bit like home. The broken sidewalks are easier to navigate. The melancholy eyes seem to brighten as it gets closer to spring. There is a certain hope in the air, the empanadas taste better and the black jackets make way for an occasional purple sweater. I’ve rested my head on this city’s soil for one month now. It’s not a place that's easy to fully embrace but I’m still into you, BA. You’ve still got me hooked.
The Spanish is slowly sinking into my skin and with each passing day I sound less and less like a drunk two-year-old. I try everyday. Look foolish everyday. Yet feel elated everyday when I can understand a conversation. The universe opens up and goes "Si". The nights continue to offer a treasure chest of musical gems: milongas, swing, zouk lombada, jazz, international DJs and drum shows. Something for everyone to shake their assets to.
I went to a tango bar last night, La Catedral, that was part Pablo Neruda sultry dream and part David Lynch eerie nightmare. A beautiful hybrid of light and dark. Just like the Argentine people. Just like the onda aca. Just like the city itself.
