Today was perfect. The weather was grand, I found a neon shirt consisting of a kaleidoscope of purple, pink, and turquoise, and I got to listen to some serious jazz for two hours in Plaza Dorrego.
I really enjoy these solo days where I wander the city aimlessly. I think it’s my favorite form of exploration. I never have a plan in mind, besides picking a barrio and wandering. Today I chose San Telmo. Calle Defensa is its heart, and I perused the street’s myriad antique shops for a couple of hours looking for the useless knick-knacks that I so adore. While I didn’t find any marbles or ancient watches like I had hoped, I was struck by a blaze of neon in a little clothes boutique window. There, in all it’s chest-hair baring glory, was my dream shirt:
I’ve nicknamed it “El Fuego,” for the record.
After paying my respects to the fashion gods that brought me this gift from on high, I stumbled upon Plaza Dorrego where a dude was setting up his amp and guitar. The guy proceeded to play jazz electric guitar for the next two hours while I wrote in my journal and sipped on some vino rojo. When he finished his set, I asked him if he played any clubs and it turns out he’s playing next week! I got his name and told him I’d try to make his show. I really can’t imagine a better way to spend an afternoon.
