No sé si es Baires o Lima

Suggested soundtrack for this reading:


I left my apartment, bought the newspaper and caught the bus to Lima Centro. I was distracted by the sports page, reading about which Peruvian soccer stars would be sold to which Argentine teams. Alianza Lima is good this year, winning games and making money. But they're going to sell "El Zorro" and "El Zatlán de los pobres" to River Plate and Boca Juniors, respectively. River, el equipo milionario, and Boca, el equipo de los legitimos porteños, are Argentina's greatest institutions. But neither team is winning this year and both have decided to mejorar la raza with Peruvians. It's all the same to me because I bled San Lorenzo's blue and red... ten years ago.

This is not a story about soccer. It is about Lima, Buenos Aires, Fito Paez and my heart. It will make elusive references to Kierkegaard.

When I looked up from the newspaper, I found myself in an unfamiliar neighborhood in Lima. I got off the bus to check in out. The street sign said Calle Palermo. I asked a policeman for directions to the expressway, Lima´s main artery, which I discovered later was four blocks away. The policeman smiled at me all gold teeth and told me that he hadn´t a clue. I thought: that´s Incan gold and I´m not in Palermo.

I studied abroad in Argentina at age 19- in case you've been searching epicurious, that's the recipe for bliss. It was pure part one of Either/Or, romantic love, duty÷free Dior, Don Giovanni spashing around in a fountain of Quilmes. I cried all the way to Ezeiza when it was time to wake up. Ever since I´ve wanted to go back. Of course I did, I always want to go back.

I did, once. It was fleeting, beautiful and my heart loved fiercely.

If you´ve made it this far, for your continuing pleasure:

Don´t skip the video. It captures my Buenos Aires perfectly: the taxi driver that wanted to murder me with his wrench, my communist metalhead friends that worked at McDonald´s, the ubiquitous colegiales.

Cold, shaken and punctuated by aimless love.

What´s the point of all this?

It´s because I need to tell you that I´m not going back to Buenos Aires. It´s not my city anymore. I´m in Lima now and I´m happy. It´s different. It´s the second part of Either/Or. It´s harder but it´s worth it. Duty.

Paul Simon is the new Elliott Smith. Fito Paez is the new Paul Simon. My new team is Racing because it inspires some crazy Venezuelan to make the best ceviche in Barranco, Canta Rana. But all this change is painful:

Every time I cross the street I imagine what it would feel like to be hit by a combi. With each visit to the ATM I love the street children less. I try to go to sleep at a decent hour but there are earthquakes in my dreams.

I need you to be patient with me. It´s a puzzle that I´m still trying to solve. My heart will always be this piece that doesn´t quite fit.