Been there, done that.

When I left for Buenos Aires, I didn’t know what to expect, I wasn’t chasing some (South) American dream. Like everywhere else I have been I wanted to see what it was like and it seemed as good an idea as any.

As I already had the job sorted, I left 2 weeks before my start date to give myself time to get a feel for the place and find somewhere to live. I had been told I would arrive just as spring had sprung, the best time to be in Bs As. When I got there, it was minus too much, blowing a gale and raining. It continued to do so as I walked the pot-holed streets, dodged the traffic, tried to find charm in riding the antiquated, fire hazard subway was complemented on my Spanish accent, saw some tango, visited some sights and found that all I would ever be able to eat was pizza.

Work began as a breeze, I was the golden girl. I seduced the students with the smile, the laugh, the songs the jokes, they couldn’t get enough and neither could I. By now I had moved to an apartment in the ritzy barrio of Recoleta. I had landed on my feet, no? No. In fact, it was the beginning of the end. From then on I was beset by a series of dirty, dishonest, disorganised, disrespectful, depressing events and behaviours.

Before each trip my family and friends wax lyrical of my courage, confidence and strength to set off all alone to a place where I know no one and nothing. Here’s the thing, there you are all alone, you have to make every decision on your own, fight every battle on your own.Thus one Saturday morning , after two months of battling, struggling, scams and disappointments, I was spent, I had no fight left. So just like that, I used the little energy and funding I had left to get on a plane and came back. 

Despite the trauma it wasn’t all bad in Bs As, I met some lovely people among them, a student daring to follow her dream of romance across the globe, work mates who reminded me to keep smiling, and a Colombian chef who made sure I ate properly and gave me a shoulder to lean on when I was too drunk to stand! and the anchovy pizza at Pizza Guerrin, will always be my favourite along with the gallon or so of malbec I drank with it.

One day I might like to return to Argentina to do a wine tour of Mendoza and pretend like I’m good in the cold whilst oohing and aahing at the ice fields and glaciers of Tierra del Fuego, but not anytime soon.

Thanks to Alice, Luke, Julia, Flor, Jose, Fiorella, Angie, Bruno, Mariangeles, Pedro and not forgetting... Mario.