Estoy aqui!

Somehow I am here in this alternate reality called Buenos Aires. My flight from Miami was spent chatting with a fast-speaking woman from Montevideo and sleeping fitfully. I arrived at the airport with no idea about where to go or how exactly to get there. I managed to find a bus that took me "al centro, por favor," but somehow I ended up at a seemingly random bus station. Not to worry, though, for I was then escorted into a car with two other strangers to get into town. One of my fellow passengers turned out to be Chris, a recent college grad from Austin, Texas. He is about to start an internship in Cordoba for five months, but for the moment we are companeros de viaje for the day. We have toured some of the city already, mostly wandering and exclaiming, "Oh! Isn´t that the ?!¨and then walking some more. We have struck up a nice mix of English and Spanish, and I am reminded of how good I used to be at Spanish and how bad I am now. Simple words that I used to know are lost to me. After a small adventure in "tiempo argentino," I have found a hostel to stay in for tonight. I have been warned of the pace of things here and already I am learning that "espera solo dos minutos, por favor" really means "have a seat and don´t hold your breath." It think it will take me a few days to shake the northeasterner anxiety about time, but I´ll settle in.
The city thus far is great, but altogether quieter than I expected. I suppose Saturday is a low-key day and being Latin America, I am sure things don´t pick up much until later in the day.
Bueno, there are sights to describe but I must go. I am well, however, and excited to be here.`

Indeed, things do pick up. Chris and I went to find dinner, but since we began our search at 4pm, we wandered through deserted streets for some time. Where there were once cafes and restaurants now stood metal garage doors and locked grates. Turns out 4pm is not exactly a peak eating hour. Instead we munched on an imported (by me) peanut butter cracker and re-visited the Plaza de Mayo (so named for the May revolution in which Argentina won independence). The formerly pigeon-inhabited square now played stage to a Catholic festival and procession, centered at the Catedral Metropolitana (where an eternal flame markes the tomb of independence here Jose de San Martin). Throngs of porteños (people from Buenos Aires) lined the streets as drums played and songs were sung and flags were waved to the procession carrying what I understood to be a symbol of Christ´s remains throught the street. This reminded me of other Catholic festivals and processions I´ve seen in Latin America and Spain, but I can recall no such festivities of the Catholic Church in the United States. Loyal readers, please weigh in on the differences in Catholic practices between the U.S. and other countries--experiences? thoughts?
Earlier Chris and I also stumbled upon Calle Florida, a bustling pedestrian market-street, kind of like Downtown Crossing (in Boston) on steroids. It was great to see folks out and about. I imagine that things will pick up again around 11pm, and I will rest until then. As always, there is much more to say than I can write, but I suppose that just means you´ll have to come here yourselves... Stay tuned.