Viernes.

I can’t believe how natural it feels to be here. How easy it is to fall asleep in a complete stranger’s XS twin bed, or how easy it is to feel like a porteno (insert tilde) while drinking and laughing with 7 instant friends in an exposed brick bar that was dimly lit with candles and spanish whispers. I feel at home here. I feel like the parks are screaming at me to run through them, that the open benches are begging me to offer them company with a book, or a journal, or a sketch pad. Every street I walk down is inviting, every moment spent on the subway is a treat and not a form of slow and painful torture like in the states.

… Could this be love?

Here is a little snippet of what we ate today, saw today, and where I get to rest my head at night. Or at 7:30 in the morning after coming home from los boliches. Ah, Argentina.

a l m u e r z o 

 

 

b o c a

 

  

t a n g o 

el barre

La Diosa Rubia, and my roommate, Meghan

p h o t o g r a f i a s 

bedroom

La casa de Gloria, my host mom.

Day 1 was more than I ever could have imagined. besos.