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Buenos Aires



If nothing else magical happens on this trip, today will be enough.


Flights to this part of the world are long and tedious.  Not only does one go south, but one goes significantly east. 
3 hours to Dallas, almost missing my connecting flight because of airport stupids and the fact that the flight was desperately  over booked.  I got the last seat. Not only was it the last seat handed out, but it was in the last row, the last letter seat. The flight to Buenos Aries was rough, not terribly, but such that one could not walk about.  And my seat mate liked to cuddle up to me rather than her husband.
American Airlines is not the best food, but significantly better than Aer Lingus. This is not something to brag about.
The airport experience in Buenos Aries was not bad. Significantly, the taxi thing there is that one books for a taxi inside, and pays for it in cash.  This avoids some of the nasty surprises that one con have with taxi service. As well as something I hadn’t thought of. What I have learned since then is that the money exchange here is by two different rates.  The government rate and the actual rate.  Credit cards are on the government rate.  So everyone benefits from using cash.
My hotel check in time was 3pm, and I was whooped. I checked my bags and went for a small walk about, and brought back some Empenadas. More about these heavenly version of the hand held meat pies late. And back to the Two Hotel where the wonderful desk girl got me into a room early for a shower, eating of meat pies, and a well needed siesta.
I woke to a world not quite ready for supper, but with the day fading. I opted to go for another walk. I followed the wind. Which ever way the light was green, that was the way I went.  I encountered lots of people going up towards towards town, so I went that way. This throng was working class folk, many carrying folding stools. Some nursing babies.  When I finally found someone to ask, it seems that these are folks hired to show up at demonstrations. This seems to rate right up there with football games as a source of entertainment.
I went back down the road to Nevi’s Cafe. Argentina is a place famous for its meat dishes, so a steak house seemed to be in order.
This is when the magic happens.
My waiter came up, and when I identified myself as someone with VERY limited Spanish, he switched into almost flawless english.
After ordering I reached in and grabbed a piece of origami paper and started folding.  When the waiter returned, I asked his favorite color, and when he said blue, I knew that magic was about to happen.WhenI gave him his peacock, he was really pleased.
Sitting nearby was an elderly woman.  Her dyed red hair was a clue as to what to fold next. She was thrilled with her crane. Even gave me a kiss on the cheek.
My dinner came. And these people know their beef. It was tender and sweet.  They served it with two sauces a CimiChurri and something like a pick de guyllo and buttter (yeah they put butter on steak). Of course I had a glass of excellent Argentinian red.
While I was eating, in walks the flight crew from my flight in! Of course I had given two of them cranes, so they remembered me (as if they could forget me, not matter how hard they tried.)
The old redhead and I continued our chat. It turns out that she was retired from being flight crew on Aer Linias. She is 85, and lives alone in the city. As I looked around the resteraunt I noticed lots of flight memoriabilia. 
Apparently this is a family resteraunt, many members of that family had worked in the industry. Many flight crew from AmericanAirlines eat there on their overnight. And one old lady eats many of her meals here, quietly tended by the family that runs the place.
I bought a bottle of wine for the flight crew. They are over to share the wine with me.  I introduced them to the red head, and quietly suggested that if she was in here the next time they come in that they might want to ask her to join them.
Her name is Marylou, or something like that in spanish. Her flat is across from my hotel, so she walked me back. 
Magic is not in what you create.  It is in being available for what walks thru the door.  And maybe in finding ways to open the door with a paper crane.

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