Buenos Aires when it rains reminds me a lot of San Diego when it rains. Neither city knows how to deal with the rain: the streets flood, cars turn into boats as they float down the messy streets, people grumble about it, and neither city gives it’s inhabitants more than a minute’s notice of when the downpour is going to start. Sometimes it will be cloudy all day and not rain a drop, whereas other days will start out beautiful, hot and sunny and end humid and flooded.
The only main difference I’ve been able to draw between the two cities in such circumstances is that San Diego has terrible drivers and when it rains, the highways and roads begin to resemble a line of ants that has just been interrupted by a twig or another such obstruction. Cars are driven up embankments, turned upside down and backwards and everyone stuffs themselves into the nearest coffee shop to take advantage of the gloomy day (whether they drink coffee or not). Buenos Aires, on the other hand, is full of drivers who are out of control insane and move between lanes like fish in the sea. Yet in all the chaos there seems to be a rhythm that beats in every car, bus and taxi that keeps everyone alive; for the most part. This rhythm of madness is uninterrupted by the rain and continues to dysfunctionally function in the rivers of the streets. It’s as if everyone has already capped out on madness that the rain couldn’t possibly make a difference.
On one of such days, I had the audacity to go outside in search of functioning internet. I was punished dearly for this folly, but not as dearly as my friend Trisha who was to meet me there. Luckily, I had the fortune of being at home before braving the storm and had full access to pants and snowboard jacket alike. I was able to protect my computer, hair and torso down to my butt from the unforgiving rain, but the rest of me got drowned. In two blocks my jeans were soaked through and I had lost my sandals twice in the rapids of the streets. I made it to the café only to discover that the storm had blown their wifi out. This was an unfortunate piece of news as the whole point of this rendezvous was to plan our spring break plans. I tried calling Trisha to tell her, but to no avail.
Just as I was explaining to the workers here that my friends weren’t coming because of the rain the door burst open and in slopped Trisha sin jacket ni umbrella. If she had told me that she had fallen into a pool on the way over, I would not have been surprised one bit. Everything on her was soaked through and the table that we were sitting at began accumulating a fairly substantial puddle underneath it. She had just come from school, and since the day awoke with beautiful weather, she was not prepared for a torrential downpour. To add to her misfortune, we had just received our orientation packets and our official police reports for our visas that day, and the rain did not fail to find those either. We began laying out all her important documents on the table to dry as I told her it was all in vain as the internet was not working. (As I type this right now on a word document at the same café, I am reminded again of the inconsistency of internet down here). Thank God Trisha was blessed with an easygoing and matter-of-fact personality and we were able to have a good laugh at the disaster of the situation.
We stayed in the café for a few hours until the rain subsided and then headed in our opposite direction. The internet still sucks and plans still have not been made.
kendra loser! be thankful its not minus 8 degree weather and snowing like as if god has had frozen white holy diarrhea. lol and it melts every morning into slush...altho you know come to think of it...i do prefer snow over rain....well its all part of the experience of being abroad!! ps follow my blog too!!! miss ya and ur michael buble pandora fascination!!
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