Goodbye San Telmo, Hello Almagro

A few days ago, I left my beloved flat on Independencia and moved to Almagro. I loved living in my old flat, even though the kitchen and bathroom were pretty basic. I had an ample bedroom with a wooden floor big enough for dancing, a pair of large erotic paintings, which I miss already and this rather special triffid growing in the window. I had lovely flatmates and my landlord was just fine. I could easily have stayed there and carried on waking up too late for daytime lessons at DNI in Almagro, day after day. Fortunately, this new flat came up and I just had to let go. Now, I can get up after noon, have a very relaxed start to the day and still manage to get to DNI, which is only six blocks away, for class at 14:00.

The flat was advertised as ‘Stylish flat in Almagro,’ so I had to go take a look. I said ‘yes’ as soon as I walked through the front door. I immediately took to the young lady who was to be my dueña. The flat was indeed stylish. Artistically designed spaces, built on many levels, with twenty foot ceilings, a living cum dining area big enough to host a small milonga, exposed brick wall, gigantic windows, wooden floors, nicely furnished, all mod cons, two bathrooms and a decent-sized bedroom for me with a divinely comfortable bed. It was a quarter more expensive than my previous flat, but I figured it would be one and a half times more comfortable and convenient living here. Almagro is within easy reach of all the milongas and prácticas where I tend to go: in San Telmo, Recoleta and Palermo. I can even walk to quite a few.

As I popped down to the Disco (supermarket) this morning, two blocks away, my walk took me past a street filled with the beauty and fragrance of flowers, because the area is the equivalent of the old Covent Garden. It is where florists come to buy their flowers. The next block in the opposite direction is a park. I am on Sarmiento. Medrano subte, on Corrientes, is one block in front of me. I am very, very lucky.

Just so I wouldn’t float away on a dream, when I got up after my first night there, the good old universe set about keepin’ it real. I went to get some money out of a hole in the wall and the computer said my transaction was invalid. I tried two others with the same result. I dashed back home and logged in to my bank to find out what the hell was going on and found my accounts had disappeared. Then, I tried the telephone banking option, but when I keyed in my code, it came up as invalid. I wasn’t liking any of this, so I chanted a bit and decided to block it out of my mind and dance till able to get through to my bank. I went to DNI. I could only do this because Paula, who owns the flat, was extraordinarily sympathetic and lent me all the money I needed, even though I still owed her money. When finally I managed to speak to the bank, I discovered they had blocked my accounts for security reasons: some of my post had been returned to them. Everything’s alright now. I’m glad to have had the shock, though. Dreamers like me need to be kept on their toes.