The Excitement Finally HIt

I Spent the plane ride from San Francisco to Houston wondering if they could see on my face that Houston wasn't my final destination; if they could tell I would only be there long enough to sprint to the next gate, the next plane, on my way to a place as exotic as Argentina.

On the plane I made friends with the woman sitting next to me.  I sat down, and after about ten minutes, as long as I could hold it in, I turned and asked her what was bringing her to Buenos Aires just so she would ask me.  Because the trip finally became real when the airplane announcements were in Spanish and English and the flight attendants had accents.

My first real accomplishment in Buenos Aires was exchanging money.  I arrived at my home-stay sticky, stinking and exhausted, but determined to stay awake until a reasonable sleeping hour.  I took a shower and asked my host mother if there was a place nearby to exchange dollars for pesos.  She directed me to a casa de cambia about six blocks away and handed me a set of keys to the apartment. So I set off down the street, under the sun.  I stepped into the small, chilled lobby, waited at the counter, and I caught sight of a piece of paper taped in the window: Valid Passport Required.  No Exceptions.  Hmmm... I did my best to ask for an exception, offered the man the student ID I had in my pocket, had to go back.  I walked back the six blocks back to the apartment where I had my passport safely nestled in the sweaters at the bottom of my suitcase.  Twenty minutes later I stepped into the same small, chilled lobby, and handed the man behind the counter my passport.  He asked me when I arrived and the hotel I was staying at.  "I'm a student."  "Then what is your street direction?"  "The street is Montevideo... I can't remember the number."  "Then no.  No exchange," and I had to go back. Twenty more minutes later, I stepped into the lobby for the third time, went up to the counter, and the man chuckled.  "You have the number now?"  And I exchanged my money.  On the third walk back to the apartment, the sixth time passing the same street vendors, doormen, and people watchers, I felt accomplished.  Foreignness turned an errand into an accomplishment.  More than an hour after I left to run a quick errand, I opened the door to the apartment with vast amounts of new common sense.  If I had only had that common sense to begin with...

And on the second day it rained for the first time in three months, washing away the dust and dog shit that had accumulated in one torrential swoop and turning the roads into rivers.