The city I love

The broad, tree-lined streets are so familiar to me. I walk along the sunny side and an amused smile dances across my lips as catcalls of "hermosa" and "diosa" remind me that I'm back in Buenos Aires; this decadent and thriving city that draws such an eclectic mix of characters and a people who don't keep their feelings to themselves.

I walk past a "parilla" - a steak house - with plastic green tables arranged, somewhat awkwardly, about the sidewalk. The delicious aroma of meat slowly burning on the grill invades the air. It's only Monday and yet the place is over-spilling with people sitting, laughing, chinking glasses and enjoying some of the finest meat in the world. A jewellery-clad lady with a Gucci bag and over-sized, dark glasses leans back in her chair, observing her dining partner with distain, dropping a coil of ash from her cigarette onto the floor and passing pieces of bread to the kickable canine by her side.

A young, painfully thin woman taps her heel nervously on the floor, eyes darting from side to side, willing the slow-moving waiter to bring the bill so she can rush home and regurgitate her lunch. A group of yellow-haired, sandal-clad gringos laugh loudly as they order another bottle of wine, unknowingly observed by the young boy with the fast hands that's pretending not to look as he circles twice around the block.

A silver haired man sits alone with his coffee. A sleepy smile exposing the crow's feet aound his eyes spreads across his face. As he nods his head he lights up with a soulful expression that seems to say "I know about fine wine and women".

My ankle jars as I step upon an uneven tile that sprays a splash of dirty, stagnated water up the back of my legs. I had forgotten about the broken sidewalks; I must be off my game. I used to have an inbuilt radar that would guide me safely down the street avoiding any crumbling surface, tree root, impromptu construction site or dog faeces.

Ahh Buenos Aires. In any given moment this city can be engaging; captivating; exciting; then suddenly the wind blows and the panorama changes. The streets that were so inviting become dirty, cluttered and hostile. Some days are good; some days are great; other days are just plain awful, depending upon how many buses you have missed or unions are on strike, cordoning off parts of the city and clogging up kilometres of traffic. I have always had a love-hate relationship with this city. It's an organized chaos that somehow works; a rat race that simply draws you in - a place that has become my second home.