Okay, strangely enough, everything seems to be working out, which, to be honest, kinda freaks me out. I guess I sort of expect moving to Argentina to be a complete pain in the ass since trying to work there legally was such a Kafkasque nightmare. Maybe it would have been if Erika and I had actually applied for work visas. But everything managed to work out somehow--defying both the laws of Argentine bureaucracy and the politics of escapism. If dreams were a checklist, then here it is:
√Buy tickets to Buenos Aires.
√Get new ultrapatriotic passports in separate envelopes that put "God Bless America" T-shirts to shame. Incidentally, Erika's passport, though still valid for a year, was actually canceled whereas my former Peace Corps no-fee passport, which expires in like 3 months was left untouched--go figure.
√Score a rad apartment in the slickest barrio in Buenos Aires that has parks, vegetarian restaurants, cafes, an apple store and a small legion of overpriced boutiques.
In review: tickets, passports, apartment, barrio, dream. Once we get to Buenos Aires, we'll take a taxi to our new place, meet Luciana (our landlady), sign our 1st three-month lease, fork over $1,700 bucks for 3 months rent (that's $285 per person FYI), and get our keys to our new life. Holla!
56 days and counting. . .