Bienvenida a Buenos Aires!

Hokay, so, this is my blog. Pretty sweet blog you might say.

Since Sami suggested that some friends of hers use blogs to keep people updated when they travel and Mom and Dad asked for daily updates, I have decided (despite my many technologically related neuroses) to create a blog. Though I will try to write a little something everyday that is certainly not a guarantee.

After 10 hours and 15 minutes of flying from Atlanta to Buenos Aires (somehow I missed the memo that this city is on the other side of the world) I arrived a little after 8:00 a.m. I'm not sure why, but in my head I imagined a glowing vision of Emily Keene awaiting me with open arms. Instead I met Mario, Jaime, y Maria whose rapid-fire castellano (porteño version of Spanish, pronounced "casteh-shano") was well meant but completely horrifying after zero sleep and bad plane hair.

Just as I was about to begin questioning how on earth I ended up here, I saw a Zara bag sitting on top of the nearest trash can. And thus, with visions of extra long pin stripe pants and electric blue shoes dancing in my head, all was well again. :-D A taxi was found and my luggage put in the trunk as I fought the urge to thank him in Polish. Jaime paid, gave the driver a slip of paper with my address, and I was on my way.

Traffic in BA is like one huge city sized tango floor with cars, scooters, and buses drifting here and there as though choreographed. Lanes are a suggestion at most and indicators are used only if you are feeling festive. The rule seemed to be, stay in your lane until you come within 2 feet of the car in front of you or until the car behind you fills your entire rear view mirror. At this time, drift smoothly around or out of the way. It's chill even when they are honking at each other as no one pummels their horn repeatedly. One drawn out honk of disapproval is enough, as if to say, "Clearly you are the ass in this situation; however, I am so fabulous that I refuse to allow your ineptitudes to mar my day."

My arrival was greeted by Rosi (¿Rossi?), the live-in maid... Yes, that's right, the live-in maid. So apparently my concerns about laundry were for naught. The apartment is beautiful. 3 bedrooms and 2 baths, not including Rosi's private bed and bath. I have my own bathroom which is also the "reception bathroom" so I have to keep my sink-top stuff in a box underneath. What a hardship. ;-)

Gabriela (my host mom) came back about 20 minutes after I arrived, and she is fabulous. Probably upper 40's, maybe 50, and way more hip than I am. She has a Zara bag sitting on the floor of her bedroom; this bodes well for my happiness. She is quite tall, maybe 5'10" and has hair like mine after my haircut. As she is Italian she wanted to make sure that I liked pasta. The last girl she had didn't, apparently that was a problem. :-D

Lorenzo is her son, 11 years old. She is no longer with her husband but has a boyfriend of several years. Lorenzo hasn't really spoken to me yet, but he seems pretty cool. Right now he is on his computer doing something and asks Gabriela a question every 30 seconds. They were talking about Harry Potter before. I think Lorenzo and I will get along delightfully.

Oh yeah, did I mention that I have my own television and that we have wireless? :-D Aside from my lack of speaking ability when it comes to castellano, things are perfectas.


P.S. The black background is for you Joe. I still think the white looks better, but I suppose I could make one sacrifice for the environment. If anyone has any trouble reading things let me know. I will try to change the colors to make it easier.