We're in sick today. At least, Lila is. Right now, she's tucked in bed watching Dora City of Lost Toys, drinking tea and eating an apple that has been cut just so. Noah's with her while she discusses fruit. "Apples are fruit," she says. "And so are plums. But it's not really papaya season right now."
Where does she get this stuff?
So she'll stay in and rest for the day, while Noah and I take turns going out. Noah goes first. No idea what he'll be doing. Me? I'm going to a cafe down the street to meet some other writers.
I have no idea who will be there. I posted on Couchsurfing for other writers and quite a few wrote back, but only one person has actually specifically said she'll be there. Otherwise, it's true Argentinian pace. Maybe they'll come. Maybe not. It's 1pm and who knows what will happen between now and 6pm to help the decision.
It's taking some time to get used to this.
Who knows what causes it. Perhaps it's the volatile economics of the country? People here are waiting for the next crash. I keep hearing it will come in the next six months. That Argentina is pretty much bankrupt now. Or maybe it's the volatile political history with constant struggles between left and right, massacres, disappearances and protests. Or maybe there's just something about being on this side of the planet that just turns everything upside down.
Now, I'm not the biggest planner in the world. I didn't know what i was doing for New Years until the day before. Same with most holidays. Even plans for big events like birthdays or Jewish holidays arrange themselves last minute.
But time moves so differently in Argentina, and even I, the perpetually unplanned and late, find myself looking at my watch or calender and wondering, "It's getting late. When are they going to get back to me?"
Now I understand how my parents must feel.
Whatever happens, I'll take my journal to Josefina's cafe, sit with a coffee -- called a cortado -- and just wait and see what happen