The God of Small Things

I have recently started reading The God of Small Things and was inspired by Roy's style of writing (and my lack of crazy, wild stories for this week) to make a blogpost dedicated to the small things I have come to love in Mendoza.

When the streetlights flicker on even though there is no use for them yet.
Having to duck my head to avoid the branches of palm trees during my runs.
The way the cool air clings to the back of your throat as dusk settles in.
The wide range of pitch in Argentinian speech.
Taking the first bite into a delightfully warm medialuna.
Sobremesa, or the time spent at the table, talking after a meal.
The way the mountains become snow capped as the temperatures drop.
The royalty of Argentine keys.
Cafe con leche.
When the sun dips its head behind the mountain peaks and leaves the sky an array of warm yellows, pale pinks, and baby blues.
Friendly street dogs that transform themselves into your protectors and friends.
The tradition of drinking mate with a group of friends, classmates, or even strangers.
The power of the winter sun.
Always knowing which way is west (I'll give you a hint; its the direction of the mountains).
The vibrant colors of the street art.
Having words in Spanish that express emotions more clearly than in English.
Knowing you can't leave an Argentine gathering without kissing every, single person on the cheek.
"Que mala leche."
Never being father than viente cuadradas (twenty blocks) from something important.
Sleeping under a pile of wool blankets when the winter temperatures actually come around.
Surviving El Zonda.
Running past a lake, palm trees, and a spectacular view of the mountains all in the same kilometer.
Living in a community with a developed transit system, even though it never runs on time.
Escaping from the noise of the city into the quiet of the mountains.
Being in Malbec territory.
The way more green leaves appear everyday as we enter into spring.

Even though I have struggled, I am beginning to fall madly in love with this country. I have never lived in a place where people are as friendly or the winters are as warm. Mendoza is starting to feel like home.

Besitos.

Cafe Petrona al lado de Plaza Espana.

Old picture but good memories.

When you're too hungover to drink the good free wine.

May or may not have stole the fancy olive oil from the table.