My hair smells different already

Beginnings are the hardest part. Beginning this year-long journey is, what I believe to be, the hardest part of this entire adventure. Likewise, beginning this blog is going to be equally awkward and clunky. So here goes nothing. 

After one day in the city, I'm starting to realize how dependent we are on familiar smells for mental stability. Malt-O-Meal, the Cannon River, and freshly-cut grass are all commonplace scents to pervade the senses in Northfield. However, the list (for me, at least) pretty much ends there. Here, I've already smelled dog shit (like, 40 different pungencies already), automotive exhaust, cigarette smoke, new shampoo, beggars' blankets, supermarkets, different laundry detergent, and the leather seats in taxi cabs. It's overwhelming to smell these new things, and maybe it's silly to write about something as "trivial" as all the random shit one smells throughout the day, but it's one of the most significant adjustments I've had to make in the single day I have been in Buenos Aires. My hair now smells like all of these things, these new things which have never been in my life that I will now carry with me. I am so grateful for my life back home, but I am also thankful for a a year of a slower-paced life here in Argentina, where new smells are abound. 

New topic, no more smelly talk. The buildings here are fantastic. The Parisian-style apartment in which we (my parents and myself) are staying in for the week is low in square footage, however this is made up for by the beautiful tall ceilings and French windows which double as doors opening onto the terraces outside. The elevator which takes us up the three floors to our cozy abode is about as antiquated as it gets. There are two latticed doors which are slid shut, and the buttons are very old. But, it works! If it didn't I probably would be writing this from a hospital bed. I'll try and add a picture of it at a later date. It's pretty cool. But it was very interesting to hear that almost all the building here in Buenos Aires have these old-timey elevators. 

Another awesome things about BA is the fact that on literally (not the fake use of the word "literally" but LITERALLY) ever street corner is a café. I haven't seen a Starbucks (yet), but I love that, at least in this neighborhood, that evil monopoly hasn't totally taken over yet. Woohoo!

Now I'm about to cenar, go out to dinner, and dig into a parilla, a steak dinner. When in Argentina, eat like the Argentines do!

Adios for now.