The Night is Young

The morning of the 23rd was not so memorable (at least in the sense that I'd prefer not remember it). Due to excessive wine consumption the night before (I did not drink that much, but my body is still unaccustomed to alcohol), I was throwing up bile for a large part of the morning (sorry for the gory details). Lesson learned. At 3:00 in the afternoon, I forced myself to eat a banana, despite still feeling nauseous. Then, I went back to bed, and slept until 6:30. Feeling more or less normal, I went out to do some groceries.

Back at the hostel, sipping tea and writing, I watched the common area fill up with travelers coming together for the weekly parillada. I soon joined a group of Dutch girls, a French guy and a French woman. The conversation flowed nicely between the food and the beer (I stuck to tea... and my vegetarian fare). After dinner, we moved to the outside terrace so the girls could smoke. It felt so good to be surrounded by interesting people who had more in mind than getting drunk (there was a large group at America del Sur that spent most of their time at the hostel, drinking and being obnoxiously loud). The night slowly settled in, and we were soon joined by another group:

The French guy was quiet and laid back-a real pretty boy with his nice jeans and grey cardigan. The South African girl was lively and incredibly nice. The Canadian guy was a little odd, but he made us all laugh with the nonsense that came out of his mouth. Finally, there was a guy from Slovenia. He was genuinely nice (simpatico as they say here)–the kind of guy who can befriend anyone in a minute. He was also, admittedly, quite cute. It was his last night in Buenos Aires. On Christmas eve, he was going to be flying back to Slovenia.

It was with this second group that I set off to have a drink. We ambled around San Telmo but all the bars were full. Finally, following a group of Argentinians, we ended up in a little bar not too far away. By all means not a classy establishment, we still had an immense amount of fun. The sun had come up by the time we walked out, each carrying a piece of paper scribbled with emails–ours and those of the Argentinians we had met on the way. It is always a great feeling to be returning home from a night out in daylight. By this time, I was walking hand in hand with my Slovenian. Suddenly, he stopped me on the street and kissed me. It was all rather romantic.

I was in bed for four hours, but I hardly slept. Nevertheless, when I got up, I was feeling quite ready to set off and walk, walk, walk the streets of Buenos Aires in the blinding sun.