It's my last day in Buenos Aires. I wake up at 7AM. Funny, that's the hour when I've been going to sleep. I finish packing at 8:30AM, and head out to make my last errand (print boarding pass) and for my last cafe con leche y medialunas.
Nothing is open. Buenos Aires is different than Spain in this manner. In Spain, in the morning, almost every coffee place open and filled with people, albeit mainly old men drinking their cafe con leches and reading the newspapers. Buenos Aires is dead at 9AM.
I enjoy being in Buenos Aires. But it seems like that everything about the city is just slightly off. There's no one awake at 9AM. The medialunas look like croissants, but taste more like soft bread. The cafe con leches are served like cappucinos. There's no street food to be found, no shawarmas. It's a port city, but seafood is rarely found, and if so, not good at all. It's the heart of tango, but most people in the city do not dance it. The tango scene is supported mainly by foreigners. I speak of this to someone at work, and she mentions that it's like the uncanny valley in animation.
My taxi picks me up at 9:30AM, and I head to the airport for a long ride back to Los Angeles.
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