First leg of the trip

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Here we are, just a few thousand miles north of Antartica, in the Tango capital of the world, Buenos Aires. The sky seems bigger here; perhaps it's a subconscious association with the name of the city, which literally translates to "Good Air", or perhaps it was just my disillusionment and deliriousness upon completing the 14 hour flight. Cecilia was an absolute gem the whole way. Lara prepared so well, as she always does, and the baby was entertained virtually the whole flight from Portland to Dallas Fort Worth. It also helped that she naps well, so while there was plenty to keep her busy, the lull of the monotone engines and peaked stimulation of the hustle and bustle of actually getting on the plane was enough to knock her out for at least the first leg of the trip. The layover in DFW was fairly short considering the 2nd leg of the trip was planned for 10 hours of air time. We grabbed a quick bite before setting in to the next plane with phenomenal seats. We somehow lucked out getting nearly an entire row to ourselves. It certainly helped that Cecilia's middle name happened to match the airline assistants middle name as well. Instant karma points - Woot woot!



It was nice flying in a 777. Service was great, and given that it was an overnight flight, very quite overall. Despite the welcoming conditions to simply fall asleep, it was difficult to get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time. Perhaps it was the excitement of the unknown for me, the heightened air conditioning, or the constant worry that Ceci would roll off the seat, sleep did not come easy to us. Nonetheless, we were on our way to the deep southern hemisphere! A journey for adventurers and thousands have died in its pursuit.. ok who am I kidding. The flight was comfy and nothing to report other than we and our luggage made it with no problems whatsoever.



Lara's aunt Cristina picked us up from the airport on early Sunday morning. Customs was immigration was a cake walk, and before we knew it, we were on Argentine soil. The morning was clear as ever. Not a cloud in the sky. It's sad that I always now associate perfectly cloudless blue mornings with 9/11. Nonetheless, and despite the jaded histories of tragic events that occur on cloudless mornings this one was special. Lara had not been back to her homeland in over a decade and I was excited to immerse myself in this new land, and connect with her family. It always impresses me how tight the bonds of family are, and how time does slightly more than nothing to sever those bonds. Cristina welcomed us like you would expect your own aunt to welcome you, the only difference is that she is not my aunt, but this complete stranger made me feel right at home.



There's a lot of graffiti here. The drive in from the airport made this apparent, but in many ways I think it expresses the soul of the people that are from here. Either that, or the vagrants that do nothing more than complain, rather then actually make an attempt to change their situation. I know one thing, if you could introduce a way to efficiently clean spray paint off walls, you'd be financially set for life. Having visited Bogota Colombia several times, I anticipated what to expect in the area immediately surrounding the airport, and the general economical efficiencies that come with entering a new country with financial troubles. Without going into too much detail, there was certainly some trouble in checking into our studio. There was not only an unbelievable excuse behind the reason it was not ready for our arrival, but it took some time to warm up to our replacement that lacked certain expected amenities. Really though, the only thing that mattered is that we had an established roof over our head and a place to call home for the next few weeks.



Before we knew it, we were off to Cristina's house for a welcoming lunch with several family members waiting for us. Cousin Pablo was the master behind "La Parilla", cooking up chorizo, steak, pork, morcilla, all local meats that take just the right touch to prepare the right way. Needless to say, the meal was absolutely delicious and even better since it was unexpected and so well prepared. A few Malbec's deep, sunshine, no sleep, and a belly full of carne, it was time to retire back to our little new found home. Despite the exhaustion one would expect from all of this. We had to explore our surroundings and see where we had actually found ourselves in. While we were getting ready, the noises I heard outside reminded me of the scene in BIG, when Tom Hank's and his-redheaded friend checked into that NY hotel with gunshots ringing in the street. Little did we know, one of the local soccer teams - "River" - won an extremely important match that evening and there were fireworks, hootin an hollerin' about through the whole city. I braced myself for madness. White knuckle grip on the stroller and out the door we went. At first, just had to keep looking over my shoulder, feeling I was amidst a crime ridden city where we were bound to get robbed at any minute. It took a while to feel relatively safe., but knowing that all the excitement was due to River winning a big game put the evening into context.

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