Wow. Well. We’ve been back in NM for 10-11 days now. It feels as though I just left the last days hanging and the end of the trip, er un-ended. Could be that I didn’t want it to end. Once I got in the groove after my moment of panic I didn’t look back. Or forward, really, except to find the next place to stay. I was content to be in the space, place, and time in which I was. I was going to write “… in which I found myself.” It’s the “found myself” part that stopped me. In one sense it refers to the literal sense of the locale and time period in which you are. In the more abstract, one might even say ‘woo-woo’ sense, it refers to the realization of coming to terms with who you are. Funny, as I write this, I accept both as being true to my experience.
As if you care a jot.
I last posted about the Iguazu Falls. I still get a tingle up my spine when I recall the power and majesty and mist of being so close to the immensity of that natural wonder.
I wrote a bit about the journey from Puerto Iguazu to Santa Fe, but not about Santa Fe. However, Charlie did, so I’ll just add a few of my impressions. It was comfortable. Small enough to not feel overwhelmed. Large enough to have the amenities you want: good food, good drink, banks, nice places to walk. There was one museum that looked interesting, but we missed it. When discovered, it was closed and closed the next day, our last, as well.
We did find this Main Street with a central tree lined median. I was enthralled with the shape of these trees. They also look quite threatening with large knobby bits that have a pointy thorns sticking out of them. Yet, they have a delicate flower.
At this restaurant we found an alternative to the usual offerings: Tacos! The soft flour tortillas held copious amounts of shredded beef, perfectly seasoned. With the traditional condiments of guacamole, pico de gallo, and sour cream, we enjoyed a small taste of home. We also liked this artwork.
One cold, drizzly afternoon we sat in the hotel lounge warming ourselves with a whiskey. It was comforting and cozy to sit in the window reading, and pausing periodically to watch the passers-by.
Returning to BsAs went smoothly once our 45 minute late bus arrived. That was an unusual occurrence in our experience thus far. Buses were generally spot on or not more than 5-10 minutes off. Charlie was about ready to book another bus. Cooler heads prevailed.
Being back in BsAs felt good. We stayed in Recoleta barrio, more upscale than San Telmo, so cleaner, but also lacking a certain distinctive ambiance. After staying in a series of smaller cities, the hum and rush of a large one was energizing. The recognition that these were to be our last days in Argentina lent a nostalgic feeling for all I was leaving behind; for all of the spaces we had stayed; for all of the people we had met, connected with, and then parted from.
Attending Rigoletto at the Teatro Colón on our last night provided us with the best farewell I could have wished for. Here is a photo from Google Images.
Here are my photos of the theatre.
Yes. We were pretty high up. When we purchased the tickets on-line they looked like good seats; not nearly so elevated. A combination of their website and using a cell phone misled us. Still, while quite a distance from the stage, the sound was not affected. I have a renewed appreciation for opera and will endeavor to attend more – but only in these beautiful old buildings specifically made for that art form.
I’m thankful to be back home. I’m full of gratitutde for the time away.