buenos aires after all
I thought I was gonna write my trip but it was and it is still impossible to describe what I felt being there again after 4 years of absences and oblivion.
I cried since I saw the sign EZE (Buenos Aires' airport) in my boarding gate.
I cried 40 min in the taxi from the airport to the hotel in the middle of the city. I cried then walking some streets around the most know of the streets of buenos aires, lingering in the corners, feeling lost, trying to remember where I was, and where was everything, and at the same time, so oddly, remembering with exactitude the very shape of the sidewalks, the candies of my childhood in the shops, the marble-like walls of some buildings, the sounds of the street, the quietness of a sunday afternoon in a siesta-custom country...
I was possibly crying because I was realizing how buried all that side of me was, and all the changes that my adaptation to England implied...
I was here in Cafe Tortoni, the most popular of all cafe places in Buenos Aires, and I had to recognize that the coffee tasted better in my memory.
I cried since I saw the sign EZE (Buenos Aires' airport) in my boarding gate.
I cried 40 min in the taxi from the airport to the hotel in the middle of the city. I cried then walking some streets around the most know of the streets of buenos aires, lingering in the corners, feeling lost, trying to remember where I was, and where was everything, and at the same time, so oddly, remembering with exactitude the very shape of the sidewalks, the candies of my childhood in the shops, the marble-like walls of some buildings, the sounds of the street, the quietness of a sunday afternoon in a siesta-custom country...
I was possibly crying because I was realizing how buried all that side of me was, and all the changes that my adaptation to England implied...
I was here in Cafe Tortoni, the most popular of all cafe places in Buenos Aires, and I had to recognize that the coffee tasted better in my memory.
posted by laugelina at 11:29 PM
1 Comments:
por eso "Todo tiempo pasado fue mejor"... Y te volverás a olvidar, y te volverás a hacer un recuerdo de un cafe especial y aromatico, y volverás a probarlo nuevamente y nuevamente sentiras que no era tan bueno... como antes... pero, eso es la vida.
Nunca comere una pizza con rucula como aquella en una tarde en una callecita de un barrio romano, no habra ninguna igual, no habra ninguna...
Besos. Tu prima Marina.
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