seems like it should be more exhausting than it is often portrayed.  After all, I always find traveling really tiring, and yet using your brain should be easy?  At any rate, I am totally grooving on taxis here.  Usually, cabs make me incredibly nauseous, no matter how far I might be traveling or what time of day it is.  But for some reason, each taxi here is smooth sailing.  And the cars  have manual transmissions.  With wine in my stomach on the widest avenue in the world, I should be sick, sick, sick.  Maybe it’s the way that traffic flows, or the conversations with the cab drivers, or the low, low prices (we haven’t spent more than 15 pesos on a ride, $5, huzzah!), but I feel very healthy in the cabs of Buenos Aires.

Oh, and one conversation was about corrupt politicians that led into the need of accepting our old buddy Christ as one’s savior or somesuch.  Since the driver was old, speaking a language that I have not entirely mastered, and you know, capable of crashing the car, I decided not to push the religious buttons for once.

The subway is pretty great thus far.  It isn’t open past 11 at night, and there are only five lines, but we haven’t had any major troubles.  70 centavos a ride is excellent.  Of course, the first time I went into a station, it was rush hour.  And rush doesn’t really describe it when there are so many people on a platform that to rush forward too quickly would shove someone onto the tracks, domino-style.  I am barely exaggerating.  People just kept coming down, and Max and I got onto the third train came.  People pushed themselves out of the train and into the fray.  Max squeezed in, but I couldn’t get through, being small and all.  I shouted that I needed to stay with my boyfriend, but no one listened.  Thankfully, Max was able to yank me through.  It hasn’t been nearly so crowded since, so I suppose the lesson is every man for himself, in any country.

The bus system is crazy complicated.  Or I haven’t bothered to look at the maps really closely.  Decide for yourself.

Oh, and I want to save my bike judgements until we try another company that has bright orange bikes and baskets!  And 5 pesos an hour!  Love!

And walking makes me ever so happy, even while stopping every few steps for another picture (Check Max’s page for photos  until I can upload some).  Seriously, I think I would prefer the feeling of sore calves to a sore brain.  You know, if um, your brain hurts after teleporting.  In, you know, the world where people can teleport.  Right?