Sweet Idleness

It starts out as a brilliant day. I take a book along and sip a doble at Havannah café, an Argentinian chain, and also a freshly squeezed jugo de naranja with an ice cube. Noone says a word as I linger over an hour at my table on the pedestrian mall under the sycamore trees. I get up finally and mill around town and settle in the park to continue my general laziness and its sweet.

Towards midday I migrate south of town in search of a renowned lomito (an Argentine style steak sandwich) joint. As appetizers I get bowls of peanuts and potato chips and my usual Fanta. The main course is a lomito on a toasted long roll topped by tomato and cheese, a sweet thousand island type dressing and a couple of fried eggs. I find another park in the center of town and lay beside the fountain and continue reading.

At first I’m not sure if the stray drops falling on me are diverted from the fountain by the wind or coming from the sky. But the grey clouds tell me what I need to know. I high tail it to the gelateria down the street. As I cross the street towards the shop a young man holding fliers looks up and smiles at the rain. The customers eating their gelatos stare at the downpour as if it hasn’t rained in years.

In the commotion of securing the outside seating from the rain, the waiter never takes my order, but I get shelter out of the deal, if not another sundae. My bus for Puerto Madryn is leaving in an hour. As I mount my backpack on my shoulders, the downpour renews itself with and even more torrential reincarnation. I wait underneath the pavillion of the Facundo Parilla for the rain to abate. It never does completely, but after weeks in the desert I can use a little watering.