Back In Buenos Aires. Home Again?

Seems like I’m moving from one home away from home to another home away from home. My flight from Belem took me through the Brazilian capital of Brasilia where I boarded another plane headed for Argentina. Arriving mid-afternoon I easily found my way back to the Hotel Costa Rica where Jann, the affable french owner and his staff welcomed me back with the usual Argentine smile and kisses exchanged on left cheeks.

A long flight from Belem to Buenos Aires. Back in Argentina again. Just hope my motorcycle makes it here, too!

I found it a bit difficult, at first, to get back into the swing of speaking Spanish, often mixing my Spanish and Portuguese or simply substituting “obrigado” instead of the usual “gracias”. Walking through the leafy tree-lines streets of Palermo, I’m taken back to my days spent here in March and April. Boarding the train at Retiro Belgrano, I venture to the suburb of Vincente Lopez and walk the several blocks to Dakar Motos where Javier greets me at the door with “Ah ha, I knew you’d be coming through here again.”

Familiar places.

With three tents pitched in the back lot, and several sleeping bags laid on the bunks in the hostel, the activity at Dakar Motos was bustling, though there seemed to be fewer bikes in storage. In residence were Daniel, a cheery and passionate German, Gerben, the Dutch biker who since I met him at Dakar Motos in April had returned to Europe worked for six months and had returned to Buenos Aires to continue his journey by motorcycle through South America. Still yet another couple from England were toward the beginning of their year-long stint in South America as were another couple, the guy from Germany and gal from South America. And then there’s Sebastian, another German rider who just arrived in Buenos Aires on a ship with his motorcycle the week before. Yes, it’s shakedown for those riders eager to ride to the end of the world for the annual Christmas and New Years biker gathering in Ushuaia on the island of Tierra del Fuego.

Gerben from Holland and Sebastian from Germany hanging at Dakar Motors.

Silvina and hotel owner Jann welcome me with open arms back to Hotel Costa Rica in Palermo, Buenos Aires, and Patricia Jann’s partner was barely showing signs of her pregnancy when I left in May. She gave birth to Lars while I was staying at the hotel!

However, for me it was time to get to work. Difficult it was, but I’d made my decision to venture across the Atlantic to Cape Town, South Africa. To be true to myself and my dream, I risk losing someone who has been very patient as I’ve journeyed through the Americas, but who now, justifiably, is having a difficult time with my decision to move on. How long can I ask someone to wait? My heart and mind have been tugged in every direction. Tears have fallen, and words have been slung.

I now pray hard that the love we share is strong enough to weather the time and distance as I make my way northward through Africa until which time I will return home to her and end this journey. If it doesn’t, I will be hurt, lost and then what? I seem to be in a losing situation no matter what I do. In life, you regret only those things you don’t do. By not returning to my sweetheart at home, I may lose the best love I’ve known. Yet, if I stopped my journey now, I give up on my dream and not hold true to my goal.

Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe just a few blocks from Hotel Costa Rica in Palermo.

One of the most impressive structures in Buenos Aires is the Edificio de Agua Corrientes – it is the headquarters of the water company, a French neoclassical design that was modularized and built from materials shipped from France at the turn of the century.

Inside the building is the most impressive toilet collection I’ve ever seen. In fact, it’s the only toilet collection I’ve ever seen. I think I’ve got to go now.

It’s amazing to see these relics, old French Citroens still running and on the streets of Buenos Aires.

Walking the streets of Buenos Aires, I already seem lost. But I must facilitate the necessary steps to get my motorcycle on a plane to South Africa. And this, I have learned, is not an easy task.