What do you mean, you don't eat beef?! You're in Argentina!

So, picture this, then. A wooden table, separated from the street by what appears to be a thick cellophane. A dark beer in a glass and my Mac in front of me. A woman walking by with a stroller, politely asking if I have a novia, and whether I might like to buy some kind of little pink stuffed dog…

It’s dusk in Palermo, perhaps the most famous of Buenos Aires districts, which I really haven’t seen yet. (I ran out of photocard memory entering the underground subte on the way here, and had to perform a photo dump.)

It’s typical travel: I’ve taken some very good photos, many of which I find entirely fantastic, and probably aren’t. (For more, see my Facebook album.) I love this city, though, and could easily, seamlessly live here. My Castellano, while confusing to the natives, is more than good enough to get by on, and I find the slurry accent comforting: it reminds me, as I said, of southern Spain; plus, you can mispronounce half the word and play it off, letting the end fall untouched off the table.

Why do I find Buenos so romantic? Part of it is the time. Of year, of years: it’s summer, muggy and gray like New York, but with an ocean breeze that forgives all. And it stays effortlessly light until well after 8 p.m., permitting guiltless sleep ‘til any hour. Economically, it’s neither the hard times hotel of 2001-2, nor the ritzy glory years of decades past. The vibe is cosmopolitan but grounded, with a lot of construction, and equal parts abandoned buildings, bustling streets, beggars, and tasty streetside parillas.

The life is unmistakably European, thanks to history, and despite the distance. Many smoke, and even in summer, long pants are the norm. The women are beautiful – spoiled, perhaps a little, but in the good way – and people are not nearly so standoffish and insistent as they are in Paris or Rome. It’s a confident, humble metropolis. People are living the way they live.

A word about my life back in la patria. I stumbled across a few photos of the Juma crew, embarking on the retreat this past fall. My reaction: how can you beat it? True, I had basically no opportunity for time off between February and October – though when my sister’s health was in serious jeopardy in April and I rushed together my Master’s Project in May, the clouds managed to part just enough. But, like any place or group, it’s the people that make it stand out. In the year-plus since joining Juma, I’ve worked as hard as at any point in my life – but I see my time there as stretching out, not truncating, as we move quickly into Year Two.

......................................What you got on my COFFEE?