Recap, part II

We landed and customs were quick. Too quick. When I reached the lobby with my luggage cart (free in EZE airport), miscellaneous items repacked into the large checked bag, i saw bunches of people. Clumps of tourists, gaggles of families, herds of companies asking "Taxi, señorita?"

The BAICA email said the man coming to pick me up would be tall with gray hair, carrying a sign saying "Cheryl." Well,, I wandered that room about four times, trying not to look worried. I didn't feel it, but exhaustion and not knowing can morph your expression into something less desirable. I felt like a walking target: lost American girl with blonde hair and too much luggage. Bingo! I'd rob me too.

Though not a monumental moment, I took it as a little faith-check. It had been about an hour. While I waited, I stood my back to the wall, wore my backpack backwards, and kept prayerfully calm. I reminded myself that I was in Argentina. In other words, maybe he'd be "late," but he certainly wouldn't leave without me.

A minute later, I saw him walk through the doors. Immediately, we recognized each other as if we'd met before.
Turns out I really flew through customs and arrived earlier than planned.

There's nothing like leaving a winter wonderland and then 24 hours later, walking outside into a perfect summer day. I'd expected too hot, but the weather was perfect-- exactly 20 degrees Celcius to ease me into the season. The ride to San Isidro with Gustavo was comfortable and welled up many emotions in me. We spoke in Castellano and Gustavo helped me review Spanish vocab. He also told me a little about his family and BAICA while I stared out the window.The countryside was painted gorgeous: green, trees, and even more green.  Like the first time I flew in two years ago, I noted the couples picnicking in the shade in the parks off the highway. I was cat-nap happy. Sleepy in the sunshine.

But maybe because I'd already seen the lovely before, the other side of things showed itself too. For example, in the long drive with thousands of cars passing, out of all of them, I could count the number of female drivers on one hand. Additionally, not one man rode passenger to a woman. Coincidence perhaps, patriarchy probably. And that's the way it is for now.

Just like, for now, I didn't catch any drivers texting behind the wheel! Culture shock! However, there was a man reading a book while he drove in traffic...

There were also all-ages playgrounds: while the children played, the adults exercised on the fixed machines. I will make it a point to partake in the genius.

After snaking through the residential areas of Buenos Aires unlike most zones in la Capital Federal, Gustavo stopped the car on the street and helped me unload my bags. We'd reached my new home, which was nothing like I'd expected....

(to be continued)