Trips of this magnitude tend to sneak up.
When you’re, say, coughing up a lung/peck-typing at your half-finished novel at three in the morning/feeling very Dickensian/only pausing for furtive glances in a different direction to watch the snow ice over. Then it’s quite easily done and undone. My room is a jewel box where glasses of water line the surfaces and my life stretches out beyond the door. People ask about life plans and I can’t tell them anything concrete. That hasn’t changed.
I’m here and soon, not. Maybe the sun will solve the problem for me. I tend to think that most of the grander life issues can be mitigated by sand-dusted feet and mild sunburns, jumping on a hotel bed, Spanish-mangling, bikini bottoms, too-strong coffee and an abundance of red wine.
I’m flying to Argentina in a week. I have done absolutely no research as I thought March was further away than it was and I no longer have a desk*. Last time I was this involved in planning my well-being, I ended up driving a tractor on an Australian banana farm. Clearly, I am not to be trusted.
I have a friend there. But nothing else, not even an idea of what to expect. I’ve heard it’s an ex-pat paradise, ripe with novel-worthy inspirations and European sensibilities. Our homebase is Buenos Aires and we’ll be there for a week. I’d like to think I’m open to just about anything where I don’t end up robbed (though my travel buddy is a bit less adventurous and that’s why we’re staying somewhere with central air). Have any of you been? Do you have any suggestions/tips/recommendations? Any place that you heard is not-to-be missed? Anything at all would be greatly appreciated…
*Having a desk provides inertia for so many things. I find when I go to a physical space to do work, I do more work. Similarly, the opposite. As in, when I am typing on my computer in the bed, I do more napping and then send follow-up emails to prospective staff positions at midnight. This can’t look good.