The Mystery Destination Revealed

The last leg of trip went smoothly. Suddenly, there I was: Buenos Aires, the city I've been dreaming about constantly for the last two years.

Going through customs was equally smooth. They did not ask me a thing, even though I had ticked the box that said that I was bringing vegetable matter into the country (three gargantuan unsealed bags of my favourite loose leaf teas). I couldn't complain, of course. It was one of my minor worries (after getting deported) that they would throw all of it away. It would have been quite a waste of quality tea, not to mention money. Also, they did not even check to see if a had a return ticket of any sort. Bureaucracy is much more lax in Argentina.

A man was waiting for me in the arrivals area (I've always wanted come out of the gate to find someone holding a board with my name on it... it makes you feel somewhat special).

Exiting through the doors, we were submerged by a wave of warmth and humidity. I was about to discover the true meaning of muggy. A blanket of dark clouds loomed overhead, but the temperature remained at about 32 degrees. "Viene una tormenta" said my escort. I was expecting sun on my arrival in Buenos Aires, but a storm... that was even more exciting.

The suburbs of Buenos Aires are not very impressive. For the most part, if you translate the signs into English, it could almost be a highway in some part of Canada, except for all the highway tolls that stop us along the way (a big sign reads "thank you for choosing our highway"). As we neared the centre of the city, the traffic seemed to multiply itself. My driver was unusually silent. Nothing beyond a reciprocal "hola." Argentine taxi drivers are usually all chatter. The silence, however, did not bother me. I was still in a daze from the air travel. My arrival had not completely settled in. It came in gentle hits, as if the boxer inside me was still warming up.

The last time I was on this road, tears were rolling down my cheeks as I was watching my last sunset in Buenos Aires. Now I was doing doing the trip in reserve, invisible tears creeping back into my eyes.

Finally, we arrived at my hostel, America del Sur, in my beloved San Telmo.