Con Mucho Humo

In case you haven’t heard, Argentine farmers near and far decided to burn thousands of acres of pastureland to clear it for crops, and the thick smoke has engulfed Buenos Aires. Buildings less than a block away are hazy shapes, my eyes are burning and my throat feels as if I smoked a pack of cigarettes yesterday (and that’s after being inside for a few hours), and there’s a general sense of discontent in the city. Everyone on the street looks rather miserable, traffic is crazy (maybe not any more than usual, but sitting in traffic with polluting buses is even worse than most days right now), and I had an epic journey this morning that led me from bus to nonfunctioning subway to difficult-to-find taxi. The taxi driver asked the usual questions—where are you from, how long have you been here—and when he heard I’d been here almost a year he said “So you like it, eh?” I said, “Yeah, obviously—but not today!” Today I’ve had enough.

The only saving grace is an ’80s party gearing up this evening and a cooking afternoon with friends tomorrow. If only I didn’t have to go outside to get there!

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