- See more at: http://blogtimenow.com/blogging/automatically-redirect-blogger-blog-another-blog-website/#sthash.ZOSg03mN.dpuf Katie Nugent Photography: Lima to Buenos Aires-- from four to solo


Lima to Buenos Aires-- from four to solo

I've decided to skip a recap on Lima.

Lima was neither atrocious nor vivacious, just a big ol' city that was impossible to navigate. It could never emulate the sparkle of our other stops and hops and skips through Peru. It was a city for working, for coming and going but for us it was not a city to tour and appreciate.

Or maybe I don't want to mention it because someone stole my favourite neon pink panties in Lima. And who wants to gush about a city where a girl's favourite undies get nabbed at the cleaners??? Some lady is sporting my lovely pink boy cut undies, feeling all cute and sassy just like I used to feel while wearing those particular ginch. I like to think they have helped her succeed in some way. Not in a nasty kind of way but empowering her to change the world for the better. It's a nicer image than the very possibility of some pervy guy sporting my underwear, which would be a terrible waste of the pink panty power. The panty theft was a true violation and one which will forever contaminate my thoughts of Lima.

But never mind that, because after bidding farewell to my lovely ladies three, I jumped a plane to Buenos Aires. Not even the thievery of my sassy underthings could dampen my spirits, nor the torrential rains which pummeled the taxi's windshield.

An evening amidst downtown BA
On my own for the first time in three weeks, my heart pounded as I sputtered and spit out spanish-seeming words, watching the driver's face, trying to detect the faintest sign of understanding. Unfortunately it was clear we had no idea what the other was talking about. Still, we happily chatted away, pretending to giggle at the others' assumed joke, nodding our heads when a question or response was beyond our comprehension.

After whipping through alleyways and tiny side streets, he eventually dropped me in front of the apartment building I was looking for. I reached over and handed him what I assumed was a proper tip, but judging from the way he beamed and set about getting my luggage and making a general fuss over me, I had over tipped-- handsomely.

The Pink Palace, Evita's centre stage for addressing the masses

Before I had time to think about it, there she was, my lovely friend Morgan. The girl who picked up her things and moved to Buenos Aires just because she could, only to fall madly in love with a handsome Argentinean and the city itself. So she found work, an apartment, a dog and a life on the other side of the world from ME!

But at that moment I was eternally grateful she had done all those things, so that I could finally come visit her in a city as effervescent as carbonated water. It took my breath away and I naturally wanted to ignore every last responsibility and commitment I had in Canada and simply get lost in the heartbeat of Buenos Aires, forever. I really do mean for eternity. The architecture, the art, the clothes, the food, the wine, the nightlife- I was spoiled rotten by Morgan and her man Agu, who showed me around and dazzled me to the point I thought my heart might actually sigh with relief from all the indulgence. It was a little magnificent, or maybe alot magnificent. A gigantic magnificent few days indeed.

The details that make the city

And I've always said I wasn't a city girl. Perhaps I hadn't found my city. Stay tuned...

1 comment:

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