I could feel the years of forgone training as my consciousness left the haze of sleep.  My body was sore.  Much like it was every other Sunday after Saturday rugby.  It is a good hurt.

Proudly, I walked on the terrace with my engraved mug to display to Nico and Vicky.  Ha!

“What are you doing today, Aaron?”, asked Vicky.

“I think I’m going to do a Google certification course online.  Why, what are you guys doing?”, I replied.

“No, it’s Sunday.  Do you want to come sailing to the delta?”

Tough decision..

We picked up Loli, Vicky’s friend on the way.  She is an artist and clearly a free spirit.  Pretty and short and had spent quite a bit of time in the states.  We listened to reggaeton, loud and Nico sped through the traffic.  There was a marathon going on and the streets were cut off in many places.  The hints at the presence of Pandora’s Box were frequent, as he would throw his arms in the air, exclaim in spanish and speed off in another direction.

We arrived at the Buenos Aires Yacht Club, after stopping to buy meat pies and empanadas and juice and water.

The gate to one of the oldest and most exclusive Yacht Clubs in all of Argentina was small and non descript.  It was seemingly in the midst of a neighborhood..we passed between 2 homes were waved past by armed guards and into a sprawling maze of thin archipelagos granting access to beautiful boats of every shape and size and style.

Pache, Vicky’s sister would be waiting on the floating dock for us, as her power boat was being loaded into the water by one of the Club staff.  The 5 of us sped through the choppy water, passing many a craft, to reach her parent’s sail boat.

“La mama”, as I would call her, and George were great.  We ate.  We drank. We swam.  We ate some more.

He gave me a tour of his pride..56 feet.  2 masts. Polished brass all over the cabin.

Hours slipped away as Pache and I talked.  I liked her.  She was cool and soft spoken.  She had an easy way about her that was comforting.  It made it easy to talk with her.

To return to the club, we tied the power boat to the sail boat and motored back to port.  La mama and George left the five of us on the sail boat and we ate again.  We took some photos and off we went to the river side for a beer.

I road with Pache and the good conversation continued.  We were both a bit tired, but it didn’t matter.  I think we both were a pleasant change from what we had been accustomed to in recent months.  Those are my thoughts though..

I enjoyed a coffee and a smoke at the cafe.  It was cooling off and the wind was picking up.  The pauses between the group’s sentences grew longer, as they do, at that time of day…and it was all good.

3 blocks from the riverside, we parked again and entered a small club, that was built with music in mind.

3 or 4 more friends showed up and  music would start an hour later.

African drums and reggae and  jazz and collective horns and percussion filled the dark, red, open space.

It so carefree and normal.  Everyone was so warm and non-judgmental.  It was so wonderful!

When Vicky and Nico motioned that someone else might be able to take me home, I asked to ride along.  I was exhausted, pleasantly enough, and could use the sleep.

The ride home got my brain thinking about what I had..what I needed..