For two weeks, my dear friend Johanna has been visiting Argentina. Johanna is a friend from long ago, and we became close back in 2002, when we spent a summer living together in an apartment in Florence. We were bad at this living overseas thing in those days, and so did things like cook gruel for 8 weeks straight and eat it to save money, all the while becoming anemic and angry.
But now we're older, and Johanna just passed her PhD orals, and life looks very different when you have slightly more money to spend on eating out.
We just returned from a three day trip to Mendoza, Argentina, famous for its wine and mountains and deserts (yes, all three). Upon arriving back in Buenos Aires, though, I had one of those beautifully psychotic traveling moments when I became disconnected from life, and the earth, and entirely forgot where I was. Standing on the tarmac outside the plane, for 20 whole seconds I was asking myself, "Wait - seriously, Claire - where are you right now?"
I settled on France, until I saw Johanna get off the plane and remembered. Don't do drugs, people, life is confusing enough.
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