Prima della partenza

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Nell’avvicinarsi alla partenza per un lungo viaggio, non mi soffermo molto su cose come “Oh, mi mancherà [tizio-caio/cosa]” oppure “Ah, non ci sarò per [inserisci qui un bell’evento]”; non sono neanche molto preoccupata dei cibi che non potrò più mangiare o le strane cibarie che incontrerò (anche se pensare al cibo occupa molto spazio mentale per me). No. La preoccupazione principale, il pensiero fisso è relativo a… come dire? Il comfort.

Per una le cui ginocchia non entravano mai sotto al banco di scuola, per cui le scarpe ad anni 7 non potevano più essere acquistate nei negozi per bambini, e i cui piedi, da allora, non hanno quasi mai trovato una scarpa da donna calzante… per una il cui rapporto altezza/girovita si trova sempre al di fuori della tabella che indica la misura delle calze, una per cui, a 12 anni, il letto dell’ospedale pediatrico era imbarazzantemente troppo corto, e per cui hanno dovuto portare un letto da fuori; una per cui ogni letto da allora è sempre stato troppo piccolo, i piedi che spuntano sempre fuori. Per una i cui pantaloni sono sempre troppo corti, e per cui i sedili di bus, treni e aerei sono considerati strumenti di tortura. Una per cui “doccia” in genere significa lavarsi dal seno in giù, e cucinare in una normale cucina significa appoggiarsi le cosce al bancone, con conseguente mal di schiena…

Per una come me, che in quasi quattro decenni di vita ha dovuto imparare ad adattarsi e a trovare quelle poche e rare cose e posti in cui CI STAI, viaggiare significa doversela cavare senza tutte queste soluzioni.

In che letto finirò? Se ha un telaio rialzato, so che avrò grandi problemi.

Riuscirò a trovare pantaloni abbastanza lunghi o scarpe abbastanza grandi se le cose che sto portando con me vanno perdute/rotte/non sono adatte?

E i viaggi saranno insopportabili grazie a micro sedili e il mio ormai mitico mal d’auto?

Non so voi, ma se non posso dormire e sedermi in modo comodo, ed essere a mio agio nei vestiti che indosso, tutto ciò che ho intorno perde qualsiasi probabilità di godimento.

Per molti versi, vivere significa plasmare il mondo che ci circonda per farci stare bene, per adattarsi a NOI: dalle piccole cose pratiche come quelle che ho menzionato, fino al tipo di persone con cui scegliamo di condividere la vita. Quindi, buttarsi in un viaggio come questo, privati di tutte queste sistemazioni e modifiche guadagnate col sudore, che rendevano la vita più semplice, più gradevole, separarsi dagli amici e dagli affetti… per fare una cosa del genere bisogna essere un po’ speciali, un pochino pazzi, credo.

Spero vivamente che la scomodità in generale sarà minima, e che la mia immagine del Sud America come una terra di persone bassissime sia completamente ingiustificata.

New friends

Leggi in italiano

It’s incredible how the weeks fly by. I have now been here nearly a month, and at times it feels like much more than that.

Having finally recovered from the triple-virus whammy that crossed my body somewhere in between London and Buenos Aires, I started getting more into “normal life” (like going to the hairdresser and stuff). I’m working quite a bit at the moment, so sightseeing and social life are relegated to short spurts here and there.

I had an amazing weekend, being looked after by three lovely locals. First D. took me to see a bit of the Rio de la Plata riverbank (which is where portenos go to escape the city heat and chillax with a beer and a spot of kite surfing). The river water is reddish brown (a bit like the Thames) and although you know that Uruguay is nearby, on the other side of the river, the river itself is so wide that, to my initiated eye, it looked like the sea (with less waves and no salty air). We ended our day bonding over our shared love of sushi (usual Argentinian restaurants only seem to serve cod and not much else in terms of fish) in Palermo, chatting away like friends who’ve known each other a long time.

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Then on the Sunday, M. and her brother were my personal guides to historic BA: Plaza de Mayo and the pink house, San Telmo market, Puerto Madero. The day was very hot and humid and we walked a lot, mixing our Spanish and Italian, gossiping about our mutual acquaintances and discovering bits of Argentine history (I loved that they were both eager to tell me a lot about it).

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Before sushi dinner with D., she took me to La Glorieta, a pavilion where every night people gather for Tango lessons first and general Tango dancing afterwards. It was quite interesting to see the mix of locals and foreigners attempting to dance in the very crowded pavilion. There was also an array of older, incredibly sweaty guys who approach women with the offer of teaching you how to Tango. I have to say the sweatiness was particularly off-putting (nevermind that we had the wrong shoes on!).

I remember that I mentioned J. before, my friend and flatmate. Staying with her has made this experience great on so many levels. First of all, it allowed me to just decide to come to BA without really needing to do any research or worrying over where to stay (is it the right area? Am I paying too much? Should I move around?) as she had done it all herself, so it was a nice safety net to have. And also, her being a Virgo just like me, I knew that her research would be good.

But most importantly, J. and I fit together so well as housemates! We both are easygoing when it is important to be, and we also like our own space, but will have long, beautiful chats when in the mood. So, for example, we’ve been out for dinner or brunch where we bring our respective Kindles, and just eat together, read, chill out. This is less common than you may think. We both talked about friends who said they would be happy to take a book to a restaurant, and then they invariably talk to you all the time (each time waiting that you’ve resumed your reading, for their part trying to be inconspicuous, for your part seeming to maximise the disruption, making you read the same line about 50 times!). It is effortless and I love it.

The other great thing in general, is that being here has brought about a huge drop in my stress levels. My 2 phones are almost always on silent (only audible when I actually need them), the volume of emails has dropped, no one is calling, problems don’t keep cropping up left right and center. People DO call on Skype but usually when we’ve agreed to and also to have a proper conversation, which is lovely. And I can see them. My hate for talking on the phone has come back with a vengeance. Today, the UK mobile rang – I startled, proving how rare this has now become. I did not answer, and the telephone system here is different, so the number that comes up is not recognised by the phone. No idea who called and it’s wonderful!

So, I am quite unused to this level of no-stress, and it’s taking some time to adjust to it. But it is soooooooo good and it has reinforced my reason for embarking on this endeavour. And I found out this week that this, whatever THIS is that I am doing, it has a name: I am a digital nomad. I like it.

This week I am missing: niece&newphews, Asian restaurants, girly chats in pyjamas

This week I am enjoying: the fact that Argentinians use bidets (hurrah for civilisation!), the hot weather, water circling anti-clockwise