Independence Day

One of the goals of this trip was to get reacquainted with Buenos Aires, to really get to know the city like a resident. In order to do this, I have to familiarize myself with public transportation--clearly not my forte in L.A. That means buses, trains, taxis, and subways. If my grandmothers had it their way, I would travel only by taxi all the time. And not just any old taxi off the street--a remise, the kind of taxi that you call from your home to pick you up, in order to ensure that they're not going to mug you, kill you, or cut off all your hair and sell it on the black market. (Note: This probably has occurred only in the disturbed minds of my grandmothers).

Today I put my foot down and decided to branch out. So I spent 20 minutes convincing my grandma Perla that I would be fine taking the bus (which I should mention she takes all the time), to my other grandma's house. Hardly a long and arduous trek. So after poring over my map for a while to get my bearings (so as not to give myself away as someone who has no idea where they're going), I got going. As it turns out, despite much protestation to the contrary, taking a bus here is much like taking a bus anywhere else. There's no science. I made it fine to grandma Martha's house. There was really no adventure. The fun came later, when I got to see the look on her face when I told her how I'd gotten to her apartment...