The same, and not the same

Well, we've discovered that rural Argentina looks pretty much like much of the American Midwest from the air. Who knew? 

Let me (C, aka she who does the writing and leaves the photography to J) state for the record: 12 hours is a LONG time to be on an airplane.

I tried to post from the Toronto airport (which was quite lovely, I might add, compared to the hellhole that is LAX), but couldn't hold on to a free wireless connection long enough.

So we arrived in Buenos Aires today right on schedule at 2:15 p.m. local time (8:15 a.m. Pacific Time), had a long but uneventful wait to have our passports stamped, followed excellent advice from the Video Poker King (who knows who he is if he's reading this) to NOT exchange money at the exchange kiosks, but instead to hit the Argentine national bank after we cleared the luggage check area (we were waved through; didn't have to crack a single bag), then took the longest cab ride in the world. After sitting on a long flight, it's no treat to sit in a cab for another hour, can I just say. We paid for the ride in advance, so the driver wasn't taking "the long way" to try to make an extra buck, but still...we were mighty glad to get to our rental apartment.

Our sole ambition for the late afternoon was to walk several blocks to the Jumbo supermarket to stock up on bottled water, fruit, and some other essentials, lugging it back on foot.

I've seen Jumbo described as the closest thing Argentina has to a Target. I would agree. It's a huge supermarket-plus. We noticed massive sections for school/craft supplies, auto supplies, gardening gear, and we didn't even walk into an area that has televisions and lamps, among other things. It's also the scene of our first awkward "we don't speak Spanish" incident. The cashier was chattering away at us, and we could not comprehend a word. We managed to convey that we don't speak Spanish and successfully determine that yes, we could use a credit card as long as we had a photo ID. We remembered to have our bulk produce weighed and tagged in the produce section, but I totally forgot that we were supposed to bag our own groceries at checkout (ironic, since given half a chance and no designated bagger, I tend to bag my own groceries at home anyway). Felt like a dork, but no lives were lost.

Side note: I do feel guilty about my almost complete lack of Spanish. I know numbers, many food terms, greetings, and how to say "please," "excuse me" and "thank you." But that's about it. I intended to teach myself more, but time just slipped away. (And frankly, it was more fun deciding what we might do and see.)

It's quite hot here, but there is a nice breeze going. Note to self: shut windows before mosquitoes come out.

We weren't sure how we would adapt to the Buenos Aires custom of eating dinner freakishly late. As it turned out, my internal clock got thrown right off the rails as soon as we hit Toronto. It was 4:30 p.m. PT, 7:30 p.m. ET, but I felt like it was about 10:30 p.m., also known as Buenos Aires time. So it's currently 8:25 p.m. and J is napping until 9:30 p.m., when we will go take our pick from one of the restaurants a stone's throw from us. Guess we're going native!