Good Friday ’08

The clock strikes half past something, mid siesta. My first week in Buenos Aires was spent in an amazing hostel near the Congresso, very chill, lots of great music, animated conversion, celebration of life (of survival), too many cigarettes, too much tension on the city centre streets. Some very nice folk on leave from a distant war, letting down their hair and looking after each other.

With both regret and relief i train out to the northern suburbs and arrange to stay with Mary, who has lived in her flat at the base of a tower block for forty years. Here there is less tension. The tall trees that line all the side-streets, interact with the balconies in the warm breeze. Sirens are few and far between, Hose’ the doorman helps clear the spare room to make room for me.

On Sunday i will church with and then lunch with my uncle and his family. Then my purpose for coming here will be complete, i will take Wednesdays plane back to the states, Thursdays plane back to London, god willing.

The prospect of staying in northern Europe’s emotional freeze over after weeks of South American warmth and generosity, is not very appealing.

Why do i not stay longer in Argentina? The answer is simple, living costs money, even in this economy. If i stay here too long i will then be stuck in England when i return, trying to live as a lonely pensioner. The purpose of this trip was, in part, to break out of that rut so i do not want to return to it. Further south there is a place where i might be able to make myself useful, hopefully.

Sorry Dad, i’ll not be returning with an Argentine wife, the budget simply does not cover it. Sorry Sweetness, i can not stop being in love with you no matter how forlorn the hope por Los hombres disafectionardo.

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