Posts Tagged housing

It’s raining today in Buenos Aires, and the buds have just appeared on the trees. It’s primavera, creo.

I moved into my new departmento on Lunes. So far, I like it a lot. I live in a swanky part of the city, in between Palermo and the Microcentro; as far as I can tell, most of my neighbors are old ladies, tiny, well-groomed dogs, and schoolgirls. There’s a very nice market one block away and many small tiendas/negocios very near. I also live 7 blocks from El Cementario Recoleta, 9 blocks from many great parks for running, and 2 blocks from Avenida Santa Fe. A map:

View Larger Map

Left: my building, the shabbiest on the block (location, location, location); Right: Looking down Calle Juncal.

A few quick thoughts:

1] I’d heard a bit about alfajores and seen them for sale in tourist shops, as they’re famously delicious. Before trying one, I was skeptical and even held a bit of disdain for them; most alfajores sold in Buenos Aires look strikingly similar to little Debbie cakes and are packaged as such.

And then I tried one. And another. And many, many more. They’re magnificent. The recipe seems to be some devastating combination of fat (in the form of a lardy biscuit) and sugar (two layers of dulce de leche, another Argentine institution). I ate two in a row today after lunch and feel a little sick, but it was so worth it.

2] I didn’t pack a lot of clothes. I have five t-shirts (not counting running apparel), one pair of jeans, some khaki pants, poly pants, and a sweater, which are great for hanging out and shopping and school. But Portenos dress really well, especially in my new neighborhood. Ties with sweaters and/or sportcoats are the norm for men here and I feel like I stick out quite a bit with my rotating collection of grey T-shirts. So I may venture into the world of commercial apparel this week and purchase a shirt with a collar and a button or two.

3] I had a dream the night that I lost my bag in which I was wandering around the Petoskey Marina at night, a place that I’d always loved. It was a quiet night with a full moon and no one else was in the marina or on any of the boats. I wandered onto a sailboat and was standing on the deck watching the shore when I realized that the boat had not been moored to the slip, and had drifted away from the dock. I was a little unnerved at the situation I found myself in, and grew more uneasy as the sailboat made its way (as if powered by some unseen force) out of the slip and between the breakwater and the concrete pier and headed toward the open water of Little Traverse Bay. I heard a voice or felt a will urging me to make a decision, so I grabbed a line and jumped in the lake and swam to the dock, pulling the huge sailboat behind me. It was difficult, but I made it to the concrete pier.

It wasn’t the most bizarre dream, or scary, or even that out of the ordinary. But did you catch the symbolism?