After a 9-hour flight from Miami, my plane ascended over a long, flat expanse, checkered brown and green, into Buenos Aires, a metropolis of high-rises interspersed with verdant parks. After so many weeks of anticipation, my adrenalin soared.
The airport was filled with lively people who were, at first glance, mostly brunette and thinner than in North Carolina. It was warm and still light at 9 pm in January. My travel host was on time; we jumped in a taxi and headed for the Ritiro district. I felt hyper-ready for my adventure.