Life has been evolving here at a lightning pace. Weeks pass like they were days, and the days are overflowing with not only the experience of the new, but also with discussions of the old... Kerouac, Frank Lloyd Wright, Michelangelo, Dylan, Hermann Hesse.
We went to our first milonga (tango gathering) last week. Even though it was a Monday night the doors didn't open until 11pm and the band didn't start till 1:30 in the morning. Buenos Aires is no doubt a city of the night. I find myself looking at the clock here at 4 in the afternoon and feeling like it's still morning. The city does that to you. Time seems different, skewed - as if I were looking at it's reflection in a fun house mirror.
We had friends over for dinner the other night. Our first dinner party in Buenos Aires. Guests included two sisters from Chile, two Americans (via Austin and New York), and my Canadian friend and his Lebanese wife. I still find myself amazed at the eclectic mix of people we find ourselves amongst out here. So many fascinating stories and so many extraordinary paths.
My friend Brian mentioned the culture shock he encountered upon returning home from his honeymoon in Hawaii not to long ago. It made me think about what my first visit back to the States might be like after living here in Argentina. I can't even imagine. By that time I will most likely have been gone for at least a year. It will be so different to me. I envision the places I know to have grown infinitely smaller, and the supermarket aisles to feel so incredibly vast. I am forever changed by what I'm experiencing. I stare out into a night window and realize that the place I am growing used to, the place I am calling home, is so far removed from my last 5 plus years spent on the beach in California and the Wisconsin corn fields I played in as a child.
My thoughts drift back to something I wrote the other night: Sometimes when you are in the ocean floating about, with the horizon hidden and revealed by cresting waves, it is difficult to see the big picture. Alternatively, when you are on the outside looking in there is no way to know what that mighty blue mass is all about, unless for a time, you have submerged yourself within it and rode in the shadow of its waves. It is "the experience of the experience", of an ocean in a sea of oceans, with winds that both howl and echo, and marvelous days that always die at the unbending hand of time, in the face of partially revealed truths.
Narcissus and Goldmund
by Hermann Hesse
Currently Listening To:
G. Love & Special Sauce
Yeah, It's That Easy
(I fixed the issue with leaving 'comments'. Anyone should be able to leave a comment now regardless if they have a google account or not. Also, I shaved off my pork chop sideburns last week. Thought you should know.)