Kicking it off - from London to Buenos Aires

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Geo: 51.5002, -0.126236

Right, well...through the mental fog of a mild but persistent "Erm, so why am I here exactly?" feeling, I'm writing my story.

It started with a voluntary redundancy scheme. My employer, the University of Leeds in the UK, offered its staff voluntary redundancy, and, much as I loved it there, the timing was right to do something different. So, I've come to live in Buenos Aires, Argentina for a few months.

I don't speak any Spanish (apart from an occasional and hesitant "Una Coca-Cola, por favor" followed an hour later, when I realise I really do need to go, by an even more hesitant "Dónde está el baño?"😉. Thankfully, I've got some Spanish classes here in BA starting next week. Will say more about those later.

In the meantime, here's how I got here.

I flew with Lufthansa, which I liked.

Checked in online the day before my flight, and found the trip advisor "Seat Guru" website (www.seatguru.com) really helpful for choosing the best seats. Managed to get the flight's only single seat for the London-Frankfurt leg, and then have three seats to myself on the
long-haul to Argentina.

I even liked the mild sense of moral judgement one of the air stewards gave me when I asked her for my third glass of champagne. She had a point. But, if someone is going to ask me if I want a drink every ten minutes, I see that as a challenge to finish my champagne by the time they ask again, and it's a challenge I am up to.

Watched some films on the plane - "Smoke" (indy film, the kinda film that makes you want to say "vignettes" - loved it), "Chloe" (sexist load of nonsense) and "Dorian Gray" (a bit bloody slow). Wished I had watched the films the other way round.

At Frankfurt, blimey, the queues for Security were whoppers! 12 hours later, landed at BA.

Had a taxi booked from the airport; a man had a sign saying "Levi" and everything. His hair was nice and curly, but his driving was bloody terrifying. Felt more like living through someone's turn on Gran Turismo than taking a cab. I felt more g-force in that cab than I did in the 747. Thankfully, the driver stopped just in time to avoid hitting a man who was juggling a set of illuminated clubs on a pedestrian crossing (was it a job? A hobby?).

Curly turned around to look at me a few times (I think he thought that, if I could see his lips, I might be able to better understand his Spanish). I used my iPhone Spanish dictionary to see if I could work out what the Spanish would be for "Stop turning around and look at the effing road, and slow down a bit, my balls are in my mouth back here!" But I decided that it might be wise for me to learn some Spanish numbers and simple greetings before I start having a stab at working with the imperative. I didn't know whether tipping taxi drivers is normal here, but, in keeping with the Gran Turismo feel, I thought Curly might have a gun. So I gave him a tip.

Arrived at Posada Palermo B&B (www.posadapalermo.com) and it is perfect. Friendly, equipped with everything you need (right down to an 'honesty bar'-style fridge full of drinks, water and coffee machines, a library and a mobile phones loan scheme). I decided I want to get my money's worth while I am here, but I will be honest when it comes to the honesty bar.

I made friends with a border collie called Pichincha and went to bed.

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Comments

[YVONNE PAY]

very funny ,will follow your antics , xx

[fester_mower]

Thanks, ma! xx