It’s September 2017, and I’m walking down a tree-lined street in Belgrano, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Yesterday was rainy and cool, and today it’s warm and windy, but I can feel the casual hint of spring in the air (and my allergies can too).
Belgrano has two sides that I have come to love. One, along the populated streets of Cabildo, is the shopping/restaurant/living life hub. Along Cabildo you can find any store, with hidden galerías of little gift shops and knickknacks of the Argentine culture. There are a plethora of McDonald’s and fast food chains, but the scent of warm pizza drifts into any peatón‘s nostrils. There are snack stores, farmacías, and lively people at every corner, and the subte is always bustling with the liveliness of its travelers.
Across town, in the more suburban part of Belgrano, a walk denotes peace and calm. Friendly doormen wave and say hello every morning; men and women walk their dogs; families bundle their children up in warm jackets and hustle them on their journey to school. Trees wave in the wind, and the pace of the pedestrians is a bit slower (though the drivers are still rather aggressive no matter where you are).
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I hate walking most of the time, but it’s not that bad in Belgrano. I see chubby babies and sweet couples and elderly folks scooting along the adorable sidewalks. Sometimes there’s a scent of savory aroma sweetening the air, and others, I’m just fascinated by my gorgeous view of a city that both terrifies me and electrifies my adventurous leanings.
And despite having to walk wherever I go, I’m actually kind of okay with it. Actually, I kind of like it. A lot.