Archive for travels

Magic of Coming Back

Posted in English, Stories and Tales, Travel diary with tags , , , , , , , , on 2012-03-08 by candycactus

After 2 months of vagabonding through places still visited by ghosts from the Pacific War, I am back to Buenos Aires. And here I am facing a strange riddle. How come a city that I have so little emotions toward to, like appreciation, fascination and just simply love (read: I dont like Buenos Aires. Malos Aires. For almost an indefinite list of reasons), can be all at a sudden so incredibly nice to me? There is no other city in the world were I would be granted compliments for nearly everything and from nearly everybody in the frequency that makes me think hard – what is it all about? Is it because my short hair got longer? Or is it because the terrible heat of the summer is fading and the muscles of portenos faces relax resulting in smiles? Or is it again that exterior just reflects ones interior?

But what about just a sheer coming back? I guess this must be the trick. Places that have unfortune to be popular for something or being declared to some heritage of the humanity, suffer from masses of comers-and-soon-goers, who come like a plague with their appearent usefulness of bringing money into the game. But have you ever experienced yourself rushing to a bus back home from work and being asked by, lets say, an Asian tourist something in a slow motion as if would be played to you backwards? Or you would want to pass on the sidewalk and there would be a crowd of “these” taking pictures of some facade you have never took notice even if you grew up in the same street? Well, thinking this way it is not difficult to see that being nasty to foreigners who come and never come back is just a survival strategy saving your soul for encounters that might result in any other exchange of energies apart from the monetary.

What happens when one comes back? All at a sudden pavements, walls of the city and everybody in and around them perceives this pure fact as a declaration of love. And they must see it right, even if I did not realize it myself. All at a sudden there is no problem if I ask for a cup of coffee with some milk apart (what the hell happened to this city that it does not refuse it anymore as before??). All at a sudden I find a verduleria, a vegetable store I wished to find where I would know the name of the vendor. And panaderia – they remember me from two months ago and give me a welcome back sweet. It goes on and on like this. Me – speechless.

But the last place where I would expect to be showered with compliments for more or less random stuff would be in an Indian clothing store with an Indian Muslim lady who does not let me see around because she just wants to hug me. What is happening?!

I must be radiating in a flashing manner – I came back, Buenos Aires!