First Impressions of Buenos Aires

My sister, Marisa, and I will stay in Buenos Aires for the next three months. Marisa will take classes to progress in her study of tango; she has been dancing in the U.S. for almost three years. I hope to teach English for a few hours each day and also improve my Spanish.  We rent a small house in the neighborhood of Palermo. 

I didn't take picture of the fabulous sunlight,
but here is the evening view.

Last night we slept without blankets. Even though Marisa left the balcony door wide open, the night air never grew chilly. As far as I can tell, Buenos Aires lives up to its name. I awoke this morning rested and ready to see what the first full day would bring. The sun streamed in through the large sliding glass doors and a woman wearing a colorful house coat watered her hanging potted plants in the adjacent apartment building. 

The streets offered their share of excitement. We strolled to the a neighborhood called Recoleta. As we waited at a street crossing a spectacled man standing in front of me turned around and said, “Hace calor.” It was extremely hot, so I answered, “Sí.”  From that single syllable, he deduced that I was American and promptly began to explain in a mixture of English and Spanish why he didn’t like Obama. His critique has nothing to do with Obama’s foreign policies. The man’s dislike is purely personal. It turns out that Obama has an uncanny resemblance to his ex girlfriend’s new boyfriend. Moreover, the Obama look alike showers his girlfriend with gifts. I told the man that I was sorry things hadn’t worked out in his favor and then let him walk up ahead.

After a brief stop and the Casa Rosada which is a familiar sight to anyone who has ever seen the musical Evita, we headed down a side street. We kept a steady pace, each immersed in our own thoughts. Suddenly there came a scream from further up the block  followed by the sound of a quickly accelerating motorcycle. It whizzed by carrying two men. The man in back held his helmet under his arm and looked back quickly. Within a split second several men ran past me whistling and yelling. They were followed by an elderly woman saying, “Me robaron mi cellular.” I stood by for a few seconds wondering if there was anything I could do. Deciding there wasn’t, I continued down the street. 

For now, Buenos Aires remains an enigma. I am enjoying the weather, the architecture, and the plants, but have yet to confidently navigate the people who live here.