I arrived in the nick of time and managed not to miss my flight connection to Buenos Aires, the city of tango. I got my usual seat on the plane between the crying toddler and the overweight man, but I did not care, nothing was going to spoil my trip. There I was on my way to my favourite destination in the whole world. I could already smell the welcoming lunch with spit-roasted-pig and a bottle of fernet- the Argentinian´s national drink.
But no sooner had I landed that I started to feel nostalgic. Ezeiza airport had not changed a bit, everything was as I remembered. I changed some dollars into pesos, the local currency, and headed for the bus stop to catch the "colectivo", which is a kind of minivan that you can share with other travellers to save some money and enjoy a light-hearted conversation in Spanish.
On the way to my 5-star rented flat in Recoleta, one of the most beckoning areas in town, I went through the city centre, where the sight of the traditional buildings made me travel back in time. I was caught in a memory of me as a teenager visiting BA for the first time, registering in a derelict old youth hostel, but eager to go out and enjoy the city life.
As I got out of the van I was greeted by the friends I had not seen in years. I´m not the type of person who says that men don´t cry, so I did shed a tear, maybe two. I hugged and was hugged by my missed ones. I had just arrived but I was missing them already, and I promised not to leave for such a long time again.
Gustavo Albarracín
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