Mike traveled to Buenos Aires a little while back. These are excerpts from
the journal he kept while there…
It’s 9:45 on a Sunday morning in November, and Buenos Aires is a ghost town. Guess this can be expected when everyone stays out until 5 am, which apparently is the norm on a Saturday night.
I’m sitting a cafe right out of what I imagined Buenos Aires to be… and when the friendly waitress walks over, I’m reminded for the fifth time in five straight encounters: I don’t speak Spanish. (It’s as if 15 minutes of Rosetta Stone for a single month isn’t enough to master a language!) I order a combination plate without understanding the components.
It’s ridiculously comfortable out. A touch more humid than Los Angeles. Blue skies. A slight breeze ruffling through the trees overhead. My cafe con leche arrives… and it’s fantastic. Same goes for the orange juice. And then… a ham and cheese sandwich (tostado). I will come to find out that many orders result in a sandwich — Buenos Aires loves sandwiches. It was just okay.