Decisions, Decisions, Decisions.

After two days of solid resting, sleeping at any odd hours and for anything between a few minutes and I-don't-remember-how-long, I'm back on my feet and facing a dilemma. Nothing I should lose my sleep over, namely which route to follow on my my way back to Brazil.

Buenos Aires is slowly but firmly entering fall and winter, the temperatures never rise above low twenties and everybody wears silly overcoats and hats and scarves. A bit over the top surely, it's hardly snowing. But the parks still have their greens, buzzing with large bony ants and weird flies, the sun is warm on your face and a fresh asthmatic breeze make a lazy afternoon just perfect. I had one of those just today. And while there, I arranged a nice weekend catch up with old friends from these parts. Started reading another detective book as well today, Raymond Chandler this time. In Portuguese.

Speaking of tongues, this I find strange. Having only elementary understanding of Spanish before my arrival but after a few weeks of intensive lessons in December-January and two months here, I should be able to exchange more than "dales" and "buenas" with the locals. Yet, all that I supposedly learned has disappeared in a bottomless pit and there's no recollection of it. Where did it go? But I'm not complaining, random Portuguese words escape between my (gapy) teeth all the time. I seem to have done so much and so unexpectedly better with it. Brazil is calling me back.

And back on topic. I've sort of decided that I'll take a small detour on my way to Sao Paulo. Paraguay is on the map, she winked at me yesterday, I winked back, we had a little crippled chat and I think I'll pay her a visit. What kind of karma you wonder I fulfill, nothing between me and an impromptu decision to pop by another country. Mind you, I smell gunpowder in the night sky. Something's gonna blow up soon.