F I V E

Buenos Aires, I thought I loved you the first time we met. Your magic immediately captivated me – your azure ceiling, your affinity for dogs, your inquisitive and sincere people, your flavor, your variety, the way sunlight shimmered through your trees and bathed your motley structures in golden brilliance, your enigmatic charm.

But Buenos Aires, I did not really know you then.

Sometimes you encounter a new person, place or thing and there is an immediate sense familiarity – an intrinsic recognition. It's as if you already knew this person, place or thing without ever having been acquainted. Sometimes, however, you have to really come to know a thing before you realize that you were never strangers; you actually knew each other all along.

I first met Buenos Aires in July of 2008. I arrived with 2 friends, Kris and Allan, intent on spending 3 weeks getting to know the city that had stolen my best friend, Christina. They were 3 weeks of exploration and excitement – raw, unadulterated travel. I saw Buenos Aires from Christina's seasoned perspective: energetic, delicious, a never-ending frenzy of experiences, authentic and simultaneously contrived. You see a place with different eyes when it is cast in the warm glow of friendship. I left Buenos Aires in August of 2008; I loved her but I did not really know her – she was still a mystery.

I returned to Buenos Aires unexpectedly, and only when I arrived this time, with my humdrum academic routine in tow, did I really come to know her. And although I did not immediately recognize her back in 2008, it turns out we were never really strangers. I always knew Buenos Aires. I knew Palermo's cobblestone avenues, leafy sidewalks, kitschy storefronts and nondescript apartment buildings. I knew San Telmo's rugged magnificence, San Cristobal's familiar smells, Constitucion's rhythmic, rumbling streets, and Belgrano's comfortable appeal. I knew Recoleta's ornate edifices and humble inhabitants.

I am living in an apartment in Recoleta, several blocks away from my first home (with my Argentine mom, Angelica, and my Argentine – er, North American and Paraguayan – siblings, Lerenzo and Lia) in Buenos Aires. My apartment is delightful and French-style with a bedroom, living area, kitchen, my own bathroom, a balcony (!!!) and enough extra space to fit a piano (seriously, I am working on renting a piano for a few months!). I am living alone for the first time in my life. It certainly takes some getting used to – my situational awareness has piqued to new heights and I feel a constant, nagging sense of peaceful discomfort. I think these are biological self-preservation mechanisms, or something like that.

Last week I settled on my final course selection at la UBA: three 4-credit courses – Derecho Internacional Publico (Public International Law); Grandes Revoluciones de la Historia: Casos Paradigmaticos (Great Revolutions in History: Paradigmatic Cases); and Derecho Internacional de los Refugiados (International Refugee Law). In May, I will begin a 2-credit course, Estetica y Normatividad: Cuestiones Filosoficas de la Tematizacion Artistica de la Violencia (a legal philosophy class about violence and art). I am pretty thrilled with my classes. My professors are interested and engaging. Notably, and contrary to the practice of every law professor I have encountered in the US of A, my Argentine professors freely voice their opinions, particularly when it comes to controversial topics. This practice is amusing, I think.

Buenos Aires’ streets are where her real magic is found. Every weekend plays host to a series of art festivals in different barrios (neighborhoods). With my newfound sense of heightened awareness, a stroll around one of these festivals is a real treat for my senses. Whimsical characters offering a bounty of funky, colorful crafts and appetizing snacks, always accompanied by sounds of live music, conversation and laughter. Buenos Aires’ streets also offer distinctive smells. (I genuinely believe that you never truly know a place until you know its smells.) A stroll through one of Buenos Aires’ street festivals supplies plentiful olfactory delights – pockets of fresh grass, incense and candied peanuts, the crevasses between scents filled with gusts of dust and the occasional draft of some porteño's perfume.

The sweet sights and smells are made even sweeter because of the people with whom I am sharing these experiences. Buenos Aires, I love you all the more when I wander your streets and acquaint myself with the people you attract. Buenos Aires’ streets are filled with friendly, kind, and unique people. I find it extraordinarily easy to make friends with people here, Argentines and foreigners alike. For this, I am extraordinarily grateful.

Buenos Aires, I am grateful too for the fact that this weekend you brought me my first (of many, I hope!) visitor, Rachel. Rachel has long been my virtual friend, the person that fate (the Rotary gods) brought into my life. We were supposed to have a lovely life together in Valparaiso, Chile, that is, until the terremoto struck and dismantled our plans. Rachel lived in Buenos Aires a few years ago, and when presented with a class-free Semana Santa, decided to hop a flight east to reacquaint herself with the city she once knew.

Rachel and I share a mutual fondness for cappuccinos, Volta gelato, long dinners spent sampling good food, wine and conversation, art, Latin pop music, reading, writing and wandering. The good part of our waking hours together are spent exploring the city and filling spare moments with the aforementioned, as we bring our friendship off of Skype and into life. (By the way, if you made it this far into this rambling blog post, you must be one of the few that enjoys reading blogs so you should check out Rachel’s blog, she is a fantastic writer!) With each passing moment, I can see Rachel reacquainting herself with the city she once knew, the city she once loved, and coming to love and know her once again.

Buenos Aires, for those of us that love you and know you, you are unequivocally enchanting.