Our first stop of the second half is Buenos Aires, Argentina.  We will spend a little over two months in South and Central America.  We have been told that English is spoken a lot less in South America as compared to Europe and Asia.  Kyle and Leanne are preparing to dust off their High School Spanish which they haven’t used much in the past 30+ years. The kids have taken some Spanish in school so we’re hoping we can collectively get by. 

We have a red-eye flight the day after Christmas.  We drive from Leanne’s farm to JFK which turns out to be a somewhat arduous journey with traffic.   We make it in time to grab dinner before the flight.  Justin does fun facts about the US.  Why not? It turns out there are many facts no one in the group knew about our own country.

The ten hour flight is uneventful and most of us are able to see for a good solid portion of it. We land at 10am and are ready for Buenos Aires...however, they apparently weren’t quite ready for us.  As we get off the plane and head toward immigration, the escalator down to passport control is blocked off and manned by a none-to-pleasant looking guard.  We are guided to a waiting area upstairs and the line quickly forms behind us and stretched down the upstairs hallway as far as the eye can see.   

Apparently the immigration line downstairs is so long that we aren’t allowed down until it has cleared out a little. Like “we aren’t allowed into the real Immigration line” long and “we need to hang upstairs in a holding pen for a while” long.  Like “no, I cannot even predict how” long.  Kyle had overheard someone on the plane saying that the line yesterday was a 3 hour wait. Apparently, we were not the only ones with the genius idea of spending post-Christmas days basking in Buenos Aires’ 85 degree weather.  

After an hour and facing an indeterminate wait upstairs, Kyle and Corey head off to the bathroom.  Of course, Murphy’s law kicks in and shortly after they leave, the guard allows a group of people downstairs including Leanne and the rest of the kids.  Leanne facetimes Kyle to let him know they are now downstairs.  Kyle and Corey return and walk up the guard who is already shaking his head no.  Kyle is concentrating really hard, reaching back thirty years, says, “mi….familia….esta….abajo.” The guard is clearly unimpressed with his broken Spanish but he lets us through.

Well, the line downstairs was a complex maze that twisted and turned in, out and around the stairs and back again.  This was clearly the longest passport control line we have experienced by a wide margin.  Oh well, “nothing that a podcast can’t cure,” Leanne remarks.  After a two-plus-hour wait we enter Argentina.  

We quickly find our scheduled transport and head into the city which is a 50 minute ride to our Airbnb. We start entering into Buenos Aires listening to Living in America screeching on the van’s radio.  Perhaps the radio DJ is sending the public a message? Kyle is sitting in the front seat of the van but is too intimidated to try having a conversation in Spanish with the driver who does not speak English.

Our first impressions of Buenos Aires are overwhelmingly positive. At first, the drive resembles most world cities in the sense that there are several nondescript high rises on the city outskirts not particularly appealing. Then you enter into city proper and a little better residential buildings arise as well as governmental buildings that are notably more aesthetic.  However, there was somewhat different feel about Buenos Aires.  

Neoclassical buildings with iron terraces scaffolding the sides of midrise buildings are shaded by mature trees with lush bright green leaves.  Wide streets gave the van plenty of room to maneuver and the absence of hustle bustle meant we made every single traffic light.  Statues glorifying leaders of the past compete with large contemporary and unique public art displays.  Buenos Aires differed from other Latin American cities we have visited in the past.  It oozed European influence with every turn of the wheel.  

We arrive at our Airbnb to discover our rented flat is on the 10th floor in a nice pre-war building. The elevator can only fit two people and has a door that opens outward and a gate that must be slide back to get in.  As we load the first bag on, the elevator drops a foot.  “Oh man, this is Riga, Latvia all over again,” Kyle bemoans. The building’s porter Martin is there to meet us and we find out he speaks very little English.  He takes us through the apartment talking away in Spanish.  Kyle nods politely and smiles, while he is thinking “did I really take Spanish for four years in high school? This sounds no more familiar to me than the Khmer language of Cambodia.”  

After a redeye and the long wait in the airport, we are definitely too tired to explore much more today. Kyle, Leanne and Justin head out to the grocery store to stock up for the week. The main advantage of Airbnb is access to a kitchen allowing us to cook (or at least microwave) a few meals ourselves.  We load up the shopping cart with roasted chicken (super moist!), quesos galore, Argentine Malbec, leche and a holiday treat — dulce batata, a caramel flavored jellylike dessert. At the checkout, the cashier starts ringing up the food when she suddenly stops and tells Kyle something in Spanish and stands there waiting. Kyle just stares blankly having no idea what she said. After a lot of saying “que” and “repite” and a lot of finger pointing, we figure out that they will only put USD $75 on one credit card so we have to pay for what she had already rung up and then start over with a new credit card. We end up having to use three different credit cards to pay for it.  

At home, Kyle whips up happy hour plates of wine, cheese and other apps for us all.  The Airbnb has a nice outdoor deck with table and chairs.  As we sit outside and eat and talk, Kyle is thinking that being back on the road feels more comfortable to him than being in the US.  We are all too tired to do much else tonight so we call it a night.