Four Itchy Feet

January 1-2, 2025. Flight and Arrival to Buenos Aires, Argentina.

We are an hour from landing in Buenos Aires, Argentina. If we’re going to travel every day in 2025, it might as well begin on the first. The flight was rough. Ten hours in economy, and sleep was a distant dream.

After landing, we faced the grind: ninety minutes in an immigration line. Then came the airport hustle, an Uber scam we’d heard of but hoped to dodge. In Buenos Aires, ordering an Uber is a game of precision. The app’s pickup spot must match where you stand, down to the last meter. We knew the play—drivers claim they can’t find you, racking up charges for wait time.

We speak Spanish, so we stood our ground. Told the driver we were exactly where the app showed. He insisted we come to him. No chance. We canceled and moved on.

Next was public transport. A bus from a company called LionTienda saved the day. Comfortable, quick, and less than twenty dollars. In under an hour, we were at the city center. Soon, we checked into our Airbnb.

Starting a journey like this is like childbirth. The pain feels endless at first, but once you’re moving, it fades. You only remember the joy of what lies ahead.

After a nap, we hit the streets. We strolled the city, visited the Basilica of Pilar, and capped the night with a steak dinner. Buenos Aires is a city that opens its arms. The streets beg to be walked. The weather is mild, kind. It’s a place that invites you to linger.