Now Serving Number ...?

When class is at 9:00, I try to leave for 8:45.  It's risky because it leaves only a couple of minutes to spare for the elevators or greeting a neighbor on the street.  Most Argentineans I've met are generous with time which means in some cases, a pause to walk two blocks with a more senior neighbor might make you late.  Now that I know more people, the probability is going up that this happens more often.

I frequently walk on the same side of the street as the house.  In the morning, there is shade but also more activity.  It is now my habit to look down, left, right, center, down, left, right, center, repeat.  (I'm wearing sunglasses so it doesn't look as awkward as it sounds.  I hope.)  The sidewalk is uneven, often containing gifts from distracted dog-owners or a pop-up construction site.  Some mornings there is a line for the clinic.  When the queue is really long, I've caught myself holding my breath to avoid what airborne contagion might be hovering nearby.  

At the end of the month, the bank will have a line that will force you into the street for a half-block.  A friend has said that she's spent up to four hours in this queue for her mom.  There's a number system so everyone lines up early in the morning to collect a number when the bank opens.  Then the ticket holder should check in every 30-60 minutes to see how she or he has progressed in line.

Shops are just opening so I might catch a gate roll-up.  The bakery is in full swing and the pedestrian street is busy with people heading to and from the train.  The 1964 Chevrolet is still for sale (since at least May) and there's usually at least one Remis driver available on the next corner.  It's peak time for buses so this is the last hurdle before ringing the buzzer that will gain me entry to the building.

Despite all the classes, I'm still not used to the elevator which shoots up like a rocket and stops with a start.  Don't ever open the door early or it might earn you a few good words from the owner.

Life is a Highway

Looking back over 2017, a lot has happened.  In recounting them to a friend recently, I realized perhaps in the context of 2016 or 2015, these (to the third party listener) are small things, taken for granted when we are at home in our home of ten or more years in our native language surrounded by our own things and our friends and family.

Many of these changes of 2017 are more like the progressions of a yoga pose, monitored with intention and celebrated by those who watch both over time and are present in that moment.

I started to drive this week, out of need more so than choice.  My new normal has become walking:  gym, class, farmers market, grocery, church, shops, restaurants.  In a downtown, who needs a car?  This week, however, as I sat behind the wheel of a 2001 Clio adjusting my seat, the mirrors, and the steering column, I tried to remember the last time I drove a car with a manual transmission.  I think it was London almost ten years ago.

I did a quick comparison:  bad traffic in both.  (Confidence-building so far.)  London has left-handed driving but the scales start to tip in the Buenos Aires suburbs with aggressive drivers*, lanes as "suggestions", heavy horn use, and the lack of traffic signals at most intersections.  I took a few deep breaths.  [Here's a great overview of driving in Argentina.]

The car owner gave me the run-down on all the car's nuisances: gear-shift top pops off, demonstration of reverse which I still don't remember, lights on at all times and then I pulled out of the garage.  My co-pilot was great, giving me a running narration through the drive:  traffic from the left, drive straight, traffic from the left, you technically have the right of way, pedestrian, motor bike with no lights, etc.

I only killed the engine once at an avenue, the only time you can expect to have a full stop.  We arrived without incident and I was ready for a second application of deodorant.  Yesterday was my fourth adventure driving.  In the car to my left, who worked to pass me through two blocks, a small girl had her head on the open window ledge and watched me.  She was smiling.  I wondered if she heard me speaking in English or just wanted to watch the woman drive.

*London drivers can be aggressive but I generally knew they would obey traffic signals and pedestrian signals