Being here, now.

I've been reading a lot of books by wise people (it's awesome to be in a relationship with a person who enjoys reading and has more or less the same reading interests). I've been doing a lot of yoga. And for all the stress of the city and apartment hunting and are-we-or-aren't-we really making any money, I am, with more and more regularity, able to come around to the same conclusion: it's already all good.

My early life was driven by goals, which I think is generally good. But when I got to college, this "achieve" mindset started to fade away. I certainly wasn't lazy or even less motivated, I just found my motivation getting directed toward other things. When I started to travel, my whole definition of success changed. It no longer had anything to do with money or anything else traditionally called "successful", and everything to do with who I am and what I experience.

But it's easy to get caught up in the idea of the brevity of life, and over the years I've caught myself thinking, crap, what is THIS, what am I doing, shouldn't I be here or there or somewhere else by now? I have to admit that has happened a few times in Buenos Aires, particularly as I took my first-ever job as a waitress-turned-bartender/cashier.

I'm a sharp cookie. Some people probably thought I'd become a lawyer or a senator or a journalist. I've thought that myself once or twice. So when, at the age of 29, you start working for $3 an hour cleaning up after people when they spill their drinks, it happens that you question your life choices.

But I've been reading lots of books. And doing lots of yoga. And I find myself resting with more and more regularity in the truth: there is nothing I have to be or do. I already Am.

A couple of years ago, I thought to myself how much I wished I'd learned to bartend in college because it looked like so much fun. And now I'm doing it! And it IS fun!

Being human, I might wake up tomorrow and write the exact opposite of what I've written right here, at which point you should direct me back to this, and to the books, and to the yoga, and then I will remember again. We're on a great path: the chiropractic office is growing, Vemma is growing, yoga classes are growing, and we're all kinds of excited for the stuff we're dreaming up.

Damn you, Buenos Aires. You are perfect just the way you are, and we are perfect here with you.

Change of plans (hey, we're really good at that!)

This is another one of those long stories like the one that got us moving out of Chile, every bit as dramatic but not quite as hurtful. So, in the interest of brevity, let us start by saying that Brent is looking for a new office.

He was sharing with our chiropractor friend here, a fantastic person -- but he and Brent have very different styles, and a parting of the ways seemed destined from the beginning. In the long run, it's absolutely fantastic, and is only a bit stressful now as he looks for his new space.  Already there are options popping up, so we are more excited than anything.  He had a stellar week last week, and is poised only for growth.

We are still looking for a new apartment, torn between paying what we consider to be an outrageous price for an awesome place we really like, or paying something somewhat more reasonable for a box with furniture. Argh.

But, that battle will pick up another day. For now, I've got a surprise evening off from the bar, Brent is making pasta sauce, two glasses of wine are poured, and we've got a movie starting any minute now. I love these moments.

Welcome to Argentina

I woke up this morning (too early, for some reason, having not gotten home until 3:30am this morning) just in time to hear the door close as Brent left for the day, and I came downstairs a few minutes later. I barely had time to pour my coffee when the door opened again -- Brent was back!  "Guess what?" he said.

There's no guessing, so don't even try. Apparently, someone tried to break into the building last night (after 3:30am, because I got in fine).  This is a rare sort of occurrence, and I'm not sure what he thought he was going to do once inside, since each apartment door is pretty heavy-duty, but I'll leave that sort of thinking to the criminal geniuses. Like the one who failed to break in this morning and broke something off in the lock on the door to the building.

The door to the building wouldn't open.

This is the only entrance in and out of the building. We were locked in.

Our doorman was working furiously from this side as four doormen from the the neighboring buildings did what they could from the outside. A line of people waiting to go to work gathered in the lobby.

We're not sure how long he had been working, but within another five minutes (and with the assistance of a power drill), he had taken the entire lock out of the door and Brent was on his way.

Happy Women's Day, yesterday.

A couple of weeks ago, while wandering around the city, I noticed a sign on a restaurant door: Día de la Mujer, 8 marzo, 20% descuento. I thought it might indicate a Thursday ladies' night (just like college!) and didn't think anything of it until I started seeing similar signs offering women's day discounts on many restaurant doors.

I have since learned that this is an international holiday, although I have to admit I have never, ever heard of it before. Even on facebook, I saw many of my US-based friends posting happy women's day messages, so apparently I was the only one in the dark.

At the time of the sign sightings, though, I was thinking it was an Argentine thing. And how delighted I was: kids get a day here, mothers and fathers get a day. I am none of those things. Where is my day? March 8, that's right. Thank you, Argentina. I pointed this out to Brent, who grumbled a bit and suggested that Valentine's Day is women's day, so I took that to mean I wasn't getting any presents.

But, he stopped by the bar on the way home from work yesterday and brought me some wonderful chocolate. I love that he gets me.

The money tree is down the street and to the left.

I must be doing something right, because in the last week two people have stopped me on the street to ask for directions -- and I have been able to accurately give them. I also managed to have a phone conversation entirely in Spanish yesterday. (You must understand, this is 100 times harder than having a Spanish conversation in person.)

The apartment hunt is in full swing. We looked at one on Wednesday that we both really liked, but it's kinda far away from my work, at least for the yoga work.

Also, the guy wants to be paid in US dollars. This is not unusual; many apartment prices are listed in USD, and some owners require payment in USD. Cash payment. I find it ridiculous. I would not set up shop in the US and demand to be paid in pesos. Besides, you're not allowed to get dollars here anymore. The owner of this apartment thought that since we are foreigners, we are still allowed to buy dollars, but from what we have understood so far, no one is allowed, and to get them you have to hit up the black market.

Which we have no interest in doing. We earn our money in pesos. We live in Argentina. We should be able to pay for things in their own currency.